


The Universe, Seduction, and Sherlock Holmes

by thelookyouredoingthelookagain



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Break Up, Confusion, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Flirting, Love, M/M, Sexual Experimentation, Sherlock in Love, cases, patience - Freeform, silliness, the universe - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-24
Updated: 2015-10-24
Packaged: 2018-04-27 19:35:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 29,125
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5061289
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thelookyouredoingthelookagain/pseuds/thelookyouredoingthelookagain
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The universe has convinced Sherlock Holmes that he and John were meant to be. He is not bothered by the fact that reality doesn't seem to agree.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Sherlock Falls In Love

**Author's Note:**

> All works here were produced by two friends in the fandom. One writes as SH and one as John, and we edit together. Our characters are based on the BBC's _Sherlock_ , though we don't mind playing a little loosely with canon and the occasional AU. We have whims and like to follow them. While we like to torture our boys with constant misunderstandings, we know they belong together and we always see to that.
> 
> All posted works are complete, and we hope there will be something for everyone. Please take a look at our other works. Just a note, though, there's pretty much always going to be smut. Sometimes fluff, sometimes angst, but always smut. We can't help it: that's just the way we are.
> 
> We plan to add new work each weekend, so please subscribe.
> 
> We also really appreciate the kudos and comments. They mean a lot -- sometimes they inspire new ideas and works, sometimes they just make us feel all warm inside.
> 
> Thanks for reading!

John looked around his new sitting room and grinned as Jessica wrapped her arms around his waist. "Soon this will be our own place," she said, moving to look into the closest box. 

"And then we'll have to unpack everything," he sighed, looking at the boxes all around him. It was going to take forever, especially because they still had to pick out furniture and paint before they even got to the boxes. John had suggested they keep his flat until all of that was done and now he was realising what a good idea that was. This would take ages. 

"Don't be a grump! That will be the fun part," Jessica smiled. "What time are you meeting Mike?" 

"About an hour," he said. "I can take you back home before I go."

Jessica came over and kissed him softly. "This'll be so good for us," she smiled as she looked around the place.

John kissed her again before they locked up and headed back. She listed out the days that they had errands, which were easy to remember because those were the only days he wasn't working. The new flat was a bit more expensive, but they were both working good jobs so he wasn't worried. 

"Don't be too late," Jessica said, kissing him before getting out. John waved and told the driver to head for the park, checking the time. When he arrived he walked along the track until he found Mike sitting at the bench, the paper in one hand and a coffee in the other. Another cup was beside him on the bench and Mike fumbled to quickly pass it to John as he sat down. 

"All moved in?" Mike smiled. 

John shook his head and sighed. "Not even close," he said. He talked about the new flat and how good it was going to be for him and Jessica. So much time was spent going between their flats, and in the last couple months the both of them had been trying to share John’s little flat, which had led to some disagreements.

They talked about Mike's work and the new students coming in this year and even more about the ones who had just left to join the work force. John thought about his own days at Bart's while Mike talked about the changes, and John's nostalgia was piqued. 

"We can go see the lab! I'll show you around," Mike said, getting up and leading the way excitedly. "Oh, but before we do, a coworker -- well, he doesn't actually work there but he uses the lab sometimes -- anyway, if he's working on something just leave him be." Mike started walking again before stopping again. "And don't take offense if he . . . talks at you. It's what he does."

John's brows furrowed in confusion, but Mike was already walking off so John fell into step with him again and decided not to question it. When they got to the lab he was sure all of that would make sense. 

_____________________________________

 Sherlock was staring through a microscope in the lab. He could not believe what he was seeing -- not because it was unbelievable, but because it hadn't been what he'd expected to see. What he'd been banking on proving did not seem to be the case after all. This was unusual. And also annoying. Which is why he'd just kept staring, as if something would change and show that Sherlock had been right all along.

Mike was going into more detail about the building and the changes in the lab as they approached. John watched him peer in through the window on the door, sigh softly, and then head inside. "Hello Sherlock," he said.  
  
John glanced at the man who was working before looking around the room. "This is very different from my day," he said, looking to Mike again. "Very upgraded."

Sherlock did not look up when the door opened and did not look up when Mike said his name. He was working and he did not need any unnecessary interruptions and that, Sherlock had learned, was all Mike was really capable of. He changed slides but still did not find what he'd been looking for.

John glanced back at the man, but the look on Mike's face told him that this was not unusual. "What are you working on?" he asked, turning back to Sherlock again.

"What difference does it make to you?" Sherlock mumbled, before stepping back and deliberately cracking the slide. "It's nothing," he said as he pushed the slides and his notes down the table and over it, letting them fall into the bin. He grabbed his bag and slipped his arms into his coat. As he turned, he said, "I apologise for disrupting your work, Mike" -- with not a little sarcasm weaved into the words -- hoping for quite a dramatic exit. But he couldn't step forward as the other man was blocking his way.

He lifted his eyes to the man's face.

And everything in Sherlock's life changed.

"Just curious," John said as he watched Sherlock throw everything into the rubbish.

Mike stepped around the desk and shrugged at Sherlock's words, again not surprised by them. Mike was surprised, however, at what happened next.

"I'm sorry, I didn't catch your name," Sherlock said, keeping his eyes focused on the man's face, scanning it, memorising it. "Who did you say you were?"

John moved his gaze from Mike to the man and shook his head. "I didn't say." He smiled a bit teasingly and didn't elaborate.

"Say now then," Sherlock said, still looking at him intently.

"John," he said, sticking his hand out to shake. "John Watson."

Sherlock reached over and gripped John's hand. "Sherlock Holmes," he said back. He held John's hand a few seconds longer than one normally would. "Remember that, John Watson," he added before dropping his hand, glancing at Mike, and moving swiftly through the door.

John watched him go before turning to Mike with a slightly confused look. Mike shrugged. "That's the most normal interaction I have seen him have with a stranger." John looked towards the door again and shrugged as well. They finished their tour of the hospital and John headed home.

_____________________________________

Sherlock went straight back to the flat. He flew up the stairs, threw his bag onto his desk and turned on the kettle. It seemed to take forever to boil. He could not stand still -- he moved around the kitchen until he could take it no longer. He opened the flat's door and shouted, "Mrs Hudson, come upstairs, please!" before returning to the kitchen and pouring from the now boiled kettle. He set two mugs, the pot and some milk on a tray and carried it into the sitting room. He sat in his chair and crossed his legs, waiting for her to come up.

"What's going on?" Mrs Hudson said as she rushed inside.

"Nothing," Sherlock said casually. "Tea?" he added, nodding towards the tray to encourage her to sit.

"Oh, Sherlock, you shouldn't shout like that," she signed, wiping her hands on her apron. "I was baking, you know. I hate baking, which you also know, and interrupting me in the middle of it does not make the process any easier." However, she sat down on the sofa across from him. "So what's going on?"

"Nothing," Sherlock repeated, uncrossing and then recrossing his legs. "Just a friendly chat over a cup of tea."

"Friendly?" Mrs Hudson said, raising her eyebrows but also smiling over at him. She looked around the flat. "It's a pig sty in here, Sherlock Holmes. I won't come up and tidy, you know -- I'm not your housekeeper."  
  
"Of that," Sherlock said. "I am aware." He sat for a few moments longer before leaning forward and pouring the tea. "So you've not had a good day?" he asked as he handed Mrs Hudson hers.

She smiled thanks and took a sip. "No, not particularly," she said, before taking a sip.

"And were you thinking of asking me about my day?" Sherlock asked.

Mrs Hudson rolled her eyes a little and said, "And how about you, Sherlock? Have you had a good day?"

"I've had a very good day indeed, Mrs Hudson," Sherlock said.

"Your experiment?" she asked, not remembering anything specific, despite the fact that he'd explained in last night in great (and rather tedious) detail.

"What?" Sherlock said. "No, not the experiment. I was wrong about that anyway."

"Sherlock Holmes was wrong yet it was still a good day?" she laughed.

"A very good day," Sherlock clarified.

"Tell me," she said.

"There's nothing to tell, I suppose," he said, taking a sip of tea and then staring into the cup.

"Sherlock Holmes, you can lie to your clients, to your brother, and to the police, but you cannot lie to me," she said. "Now start talking."

Sherlock swallowed and then looked over, out the window, staring into the sky, before saying, "I met someone and I think I love him."

_____________________________________

John picked up dinner on his way back. His flat felt so much emptier now. He found Jessica packing when he walked in.  
  
"Did you have fun with Mike?"  
  
John nodded. "The lab looks so different now," he said, serving up dinner. "What are you still packing?"  
  
Jessica came over and took a plate. "Just some small stuff lying around," she said.

John watched her but didn't feel like helping at the moment. Instead he tucked into his dinner, taking his time with it.

_____________________________________

"Sherlock Holmes," Mrs Hudson said because she did not know what else to say. She'd never heard Sherlock mention anything about love, about being capable of love -- if anything he'd given the impression that he didn't think much of the idea at all. The room felt too silent, though, and she knew she should say something else. "And who is it you think you love?"

"So you don't believe me," Sherlock noted. "That's fine. His name is John Watson."

"I believe you," she said. It wasn't that she didn't believe him, she just wondered if Sherlock really knew what love was -- if he was confusing feelings and if this meant that he might get hurt. "And do you think he loves you back?" she asked cautiously.

"I don't know," Sherlock confessed. "That wasn't really discussed."  
  
"Well, what was discussed? I mean, who is he? What does he do? Where does he live?" she asked.

Sherlock looked at his tea again. "I . . .I don't know. The answers to any of those questions, I mean…those things weren't really discussed either."

"Sherlock," Mrs Hudson said softly. "Did you actually . . .discuss anything with this man?"

He took a sip of tea. "I am relatively certain I spoke to him," he said quietly.

She stood up and walked over to his chair, touching his arm lightly, before moving to set her cup on the table. "Perhaps you should wait until you talk to him a little more, before you say you love him." She made a move to the door.

Perhaps she was right, Sherlock thought. There was no reason to say it again. He already knew he felt it.

_____________________________________

When they finished dinner John helped for a bit, mostly moving the last of the boxes closer to the door before they went to bed. As he got ready he thought about Sherlock again, wondering about their strange interaction. He wasn't as odd as Mike had made him out to be, but he supposed he could see that he wasn't quite normal. He thought about the experiment Sherlock had thrown away. He wondered if it was anything important, but how could it be when it was treated so carelessly? He shook his head and wondered why he cared about it anyway. Sherlock had told John to remember his name and now John couldn't get him out of his head, like it had been some kind of trick. He went to bed and set his alarm for the morning, falling asleep rather quickly.

_____________________________________

Once Mrs Hudson had left, Sherlock got on his computer and got to work. There were far too many John Watsons in London. He searched by image but didn't find the face he was looking for. He began a long process of elimination until he had it down to about a dozen options.

He looked up. The room was dark. He glanced at the window. Night had fallen. He'd been at his desk for hours. He copied down some information and then went to bed. He'd find the right John Watson tomorrow. He knew he would.


	2. Sherlock Investigates

In the morning the alarm sounded too loudly. John groped around to turn it off and dragged himself out of bed, heading straight into the shower to wake up. He brushed his teeth and dressed quietly while Jessica slept. She had taken a few days off to keep packing, but John didn't have that luxury. Not that he wanted it, if he was honest. The surgery was busy enough to keep John distracted, even if the patients themselves were a bit boring. If he had to stay home and pack boxes all day, he would surely go crazy. 

When he walked in there were eight people in the lobby already. Sarah nodded hello before starting to take patients, and John hung his jacket and quickly followed. The faster they could get through the morning, the easier the day would be later when their energy started winding down.

_____________________________________

 Sherlock was out of the flat early the next morning. He went to see Lestrade first. "I need information on this man," he said, handing him his list.

"There are twelve men here, Sherlock," Lestrade said, wondering what new problem Sherlock was about to cause. "Which one do you want?"

"I --" Sherlock paused and thought for a moment. "The shortest one, please," he said.

Lestrade sighed loudly. "What's this about, Sherlock?" he asked.

"I'm -- a case, I'm working on a case. I know the man's name and what he looks like but . . . " he paused again and swallowed. "That's all I know about him," he added. Which was a lie. He knew more. He knew they were meant to be together.

"You're telling me Sherlock Holmes can't find someone? Seriously? What's going on?"

"Oh, I will find him," Sherlock said, snatching the paper back. "I just thought I'd stop here first. I just thought you might be able to return one of the many favours I've done for you." He folded the paper and slipped it into his pocket.

"Hey," Lestrade said. "What's happening here, Sherlock? Are you . . . all right?"  
  
Sherlock looked up at him. He couldn't tell if Lestrade was suspicious or just being kind. "I've got a new case," he said. "I appreciate at this juncture I do not have a lot to go on, but if you cannot help, I'll move on."

Lestrade sighed again. "Let me see that paper again," he said. He turned to his computer and did a few searches. "Has this man committed a crime?" he asked as he typed.

"No, he definitely has not," Sherlock said even though, of course, he had no way of knowing if that were true.

Lestrade scribbled on the paper. "Then the man you are looking for is not the third one, as he's currently in jail. I've got stats on these two," he said, pointing. "How old's your man?"

"Around my age," he said. "Maybe a bit older."

Lestrade scratched out two more. "That's all I've got for you," he said. "Should I ask why it is so crucial that you need to find this man?"

"No," Sherlock said, taking the paper back. "You shouldn't." He headed back out onto the street. He had to decide where to go next. And then suddenly he realised that love had made him stupid. Mike. Mike had his answer. He fished out his phone.

_The man I met yesterday. Where can I locate him? SH_

He paced around in the pavement, bumping into people passing him and not caring in the slightest.

_Why? MS_

_Location, please. SH_

And then there it was: the precise place that Sherlock could find John Watson. He headed directly over.

"Do you have an appointment?" the woman behind the glass asked him.

"No, I do not," he said. "However, I need to see Dr Watson today. I will wait."  
  
The woman sighed. "Well, what's wrong with you?" she asked, pulling out a form and digging around for a pen.

"Do I really need to discuss my symptoms with you?" he asked.

She looked up. "Do you want to see a doctor or not?" she asked.

"I want to see John Watson," he said. "I don't feel comfortable discussing my symptoms out here," he added.

She sighed again and wrote STD at the top of the paper. "Name and address," she said.

Sherlock gave her the information and watched her write it down. "Why have you come here? There's a surgery nearer your home," she said and glanced up. As she did another woman came in the building and headed into a side door. "You know what," the receptionist said. "I don't care. My shift's over. Go wait for your name to be called."

Sherlock turned and found a chair in the corner. He didn't care how long he had to wait. He was going to see John Watson.

_____________________________________

After four flus, a broken arm, and three routine physicals John paused to have lunch, eating at his desk. He didn't want to go into the lobby where he was sure more people were waiting for him. He didn't want them to see him leaving, and he didn't want to be pressured into skipping his lunch. When he finished he went out to the desk to call the next patient, but he noticed that a single name was on the list still even though other underneath it had been taken. 

"He's insisting on seeing you," the receptionist said, pointing to the reason the man was here. 

John read 'STD' before looking at the name. His brows furrowed and he looked up, finding Sherlock already standing expectantly. "Sherlock," he said, motioning to his office. "Come in." He led the way and shut the door, moving around to his desk. "Um . . . you can undress from the waist down and I'll have a look." 

Sherlock looked closely at John. Did he know, too? Had he figured it out? Sherlock hadn't spoken a word yet and he decided not to risk doing so. He kicked off his shoes and opened his trousers, letting them and his boxers fall to the ground.

John put gloves on and moved closer, bending a bit for a closer look. "I don't . . . I don't see anything unusual," he said. He stood and looked up at Sherlock. "When was the last time you had sex?"

When John touched him, Sherlock let his eyes close for just a moment. And then John was standing and talking again. "Seven years ago," he answered. "Should I pull up my trousers?" he asked.

"Seven? Sorry, why do you think you have an STD? Is it . . . your mouth?" he asked, nodding to Sherlock's question as he stepped back to give him room. When he was dressed again John stepped close. "Open wide."

Sherlock liked John close. He lifted his hand and held John's arm. "I will open my mouth," he said. "Before I do, though, perhaps I should clarify that I do not think I have an STD. That was your receptionist's idea."

John met his gaze. "Oh. She said . . . well, okay. What brings you in then?" When he finished speaking he noticed that Sherlock was still holding his arm and he eased back a bit, waiting for his answer. 

Sherlock sat down in the chair. "I just thought we should see each other again," he said.

John blinked at him for a moment before leaning on his desk, taking his gloves off now and tossing them in the bin. "Oh. I . . . this isn't exactly a great time," he said, glancing towards the door. "Do you want to meet up after?" John didn't know what was going on exactly, but it felt wrong to send Sherlock off without a proper chat. 

"All right," Sherlock said. "When do you finish?"

"Usually around five," John said. 

"Fine," Sherlock said. "I'll see you then." He opened the door and headed out of the room and then out of the building. He sat down at the side of the building. He felt like smoking a cigarette but decided that was probably a bad idea. He sat and waited.

John watched him go and realised he was smiling a bit. Sherlock was a bit strange, but it was making John more curious about him. He shook his head and continued calling patients, falling into the usual routine within minutes. But people kept coming in and lining up and before John knew it, the time had gone half passed five. Finally John grabbed his jacket and hurried out before realising that he hadn't actually picked a place to meet Sherlock. He looked around, sure that if Sherlock had come to meet him at five, he was probably gone now. John zipped his coat and started to walk towards his flat. 

Sherlock had moved to a sunnier bench as it had gone quite chilly as he sat there waiting. He saw John come out and he moved quickly, soon walking in step beside him. "What exactly did you want to talk about?" he asked.

John looked over and did a double take, raising his brows a bit. "Me? You are the one that came to find me," he pointed out. 

"True," Sherlock said. "There must have been a reason . . . have you got any ideas?"

John looked over again and tilted his head, watching Sherlock for a long moment. "I don't know. You want to be friends?"

"Yes, I think we should be," Sherlock said. "Well, look, I'm a detective and you're a doctor -- I'm sure between the two of us we can figure out what motivated my visit." He reached into his pocket and pulled out a card. "Here's my card," he said, slipping it into John's jacket pocket. "Get in touch if the answer comes to you." He quickly darted into the street, dodging the cars. He went to a taxi on the other side and got in, giving the driver his address.

John watched Sherlock step into the street and leave with the cab. He had to admit he was a bit disappointed. He pulled the card out of his pocket and looked at the information as he walked. A detective? John was wondering what he'd been doing in the lab if he didn't work at the hospital. He stared at the phone number. He could always ask, of course. But Sherlock said to get in contact if he figured out why he had come to find John. Wasn't being friends the answer?

He put the card into his pocket again and picked up the pace. He was hungry, and he knew they had some packing to finish. Tomorrow they would move more boxes to the new flat and the thought of unpacking overwhelmed him again. He pushed the thought away.

Jessica was just finishing dinner, coming over to kiss him quickly. "We have to go to the flat tonight."

"What? No, Jessica, I'm exhausted," John said.

"We need to move the boxes from the sitting room so they can install the carpet. It'll be easier without furniture."

"They are putting carpet in?"

Jessica turned around. "We helped pick it out a week ago, John."

John nodded. "Right, of course. But Jessica, I can't go move boxes tonight, I'm so tired."

"Fine. I'll just go alone," she said. She turned off the heat and drained the pasta.

"Can't we go in the morning?" John asked.

"No, they are coming at eight in the morning." she brought the plates to the table and sank into her seat. "It's fine. I'll go move most of them, and you can do the rest in the morning."

John watched her for a moment before nodding. "Okay, yeah," he said, starting on his own food. They ate quietly and, after not being able to stand it, John talked about his day. Jessica only made a few sounds to show she was listening. When she finished she grabbed her jacket and said she'd be back later.

John sighed heavily and got up to put the rest of the food away, even washing up the dishes before going up to bed. He thought about packing but immediately dismissed it. He took Sherlock's card from his pocket and brought his phone to bed.

Sherlock had asked John to find a reason for them meeting again. He entered Sherlock's number into his phone.

_Can I have a hint? -JW_

Sherlock had spent the evening feeling quite pleased. He knew it would be just a matter of time. He'd even gone up to the other bedroom and tidied it a bit. He had just poured a cup of tea when his phone made a noise. He smiled when he saw it.

_You must not be trying very hard if you've already given up. SH_

_Asking for a hint isn't giving up! -JW_

_What are you doing this evening, John Watson? SH_

_I'm trying to get some rest. -JW_

_Well deserved, I'm sure. Have a good sleep and perhaps in the morning, you'll have figured it all out. If you do, please let me know. I'm afraid I'm in for a restless night. SH_

_I'll be too busy in the morning for riddles, I'm afraid. But I will keep thinking. -JW_

_I'm satisfied just staying in the back of your mind. Good night, John Watson. SH_

John bit his lip and sighed. He heard the door and put his phone down quickly as if he'd been caught doing something wrong. For a wild moment he thought about pretending to be asleep but that was silly. Being too tired to move boxes didn't mean the same as being too tired to stay awake. Jessica came into the bedroom and started getting ready for bed. "That was fast," John said.

She looked over at him and shrugged. "It was annoying doing it alone."

John watched her for a moment. "I've set the alarm, I promise it'll be done before they come."

She got into bed and turned on her side, shutting the light off. "Good night, John."

John moved closer and carefully wrapped his arm around her. She didn't push him off and eventually she fell asleep. John was still up, thinking about Sherlock and why he'd come to find John. He listened to Jessica breathing steadily and he couldn't turn his brain off. He cursed Sherlock for being so mysterious.


	3. Sherlock's Next Try

In the morning, Sherlock was up early again, waiting outside John's surgery before it opened. When the receptionist came from the back to unlock the door, she rolled her eyes when she saw him. He ignored that completely and stepped up to her window.

"I need to see Doctor Watson," he said. 

"And your symptoms today?" she asked.

"I'm still too shy to say," he said.

"You shouldn't waste the doctor's time, you know," she said. "The NHS has enough problems already without timewasters. There are patients with real illnesses and injuries who need actual medical help."

Sherlock reached through the window and grabbed her stapler. He stapled the front of his hand. "I'm injured," he said. "Can I see the doctor, please?"

"What the hell?" she said, quickly glancing around to see if anyone else had heard her curse or seen what Sherlock had done. "Go sit down," she told him and then went in back to find the doctor, but his office was empty. She wasn't quite sure what to do, so she avoided the lobby and went back to her desk, locking the door and hoping that nut would keep quiet until someone else got to the building.

_____________________________________

John groaned when the alarm went off but then remembered what he'd promised to do. He got out of bed and dressed slowly, poking Jessica's shoulder.

"You go," she grumbled before pulling the covers up higher.

John sighed and padded to the door, grabbing his jacket and the new flat's key before leaving. He hailed a cab and gave the address, trying not to fall asleep in the back.

_____________________________________

Back at the surgery, Sherlock was still waiting. He had removed the staple from his skin. There hadn't even been much blood. He heard the front door open, but he could see it wasn't John coming in.

"Thank god you're here," the receptionist said to Sarah as she came in.

"What's going on?" Sarah asked.

"That oddball from yesterday is back to see Dr Watson," she explained. "If he doesn't get here soon, I'm serious -- we should call the police. I think he might be threatening."

"In what way?" Sarah said, quickly thinking of an emergency plan.

"Well, he . . . stapled himself," the receptionist said. "When's John getting here?"

Sarah picked up the schedule book lying next to the printer. "He doesn't work today," Sarah said. "You know, you could have just looked over and seen it for yourself."

"Whatever," the receptionist said. "What are we going to do?"

Sarah sighed. She had received a number of complaints about this woman, and she was beginning to see what people meant about her attitude. "I'll call John," she said. "You just . . . do nothing." She looked down at the schedule and then set it on the desk. "Others will start coming in soon -- make sure you put a tick next to the names of people who come in, all right?"  
  
She went back to her own office and pulled out her phone to ring John.

_____________________________________

John let himself into the new flat and sighed when he saw the boxes. Jessica had only moved a couple and there was a lot more to go. He stacked the boxes and pushed them along into the bedroom and the bathroom, getting them out of the sitting room. Just as he was finishing, the doorbell rang and he opened it to let the men come in. As they started their work John's phone started ringing, displaying the surgery number. 

"Sarah?" 

"John, hi. I hate to call you on your day off but there's someone here to see you," she said. "He's insisting."

John imagined Sherlock sitting in the lobby again and didn't know what to think about that. "Sarah, I can't. I'm at the new flat, they are putting carpet in." 

"John . . . Myra says that he stapled his hand," Sarah said. 

John was quiet for a moment as he thought about that. "Sarah, I'm sorry, I can't come in right now."

"All right. I will go tell him. Sorry to bother you again."

Sarah hung up the phone and went out into the lobby. "Hello. Um, Dr Watson isn't working today. Would you like me to take a look at your hand?"

"It's healed now," Sherlock said. "Thank you for your time." He stood and walked out. Okay, that did not go to plan. That was fine. Nothing was ruined, it just meant Sherlock needed a new plan. He headed back to Baker Street to think.

When he got in, he made a cup of tea and sat down to check his email. For the past week he'd been hoping for a new case -- he'd been keeping himself busy with experiments but was teetering on being bored -- so he was pleased to see a message from a possible client. He set up an appointment for tomorrow. Then he moved to the sofa and thought about John. He picked up his phone.

_I've had a delivery for you. Should I bring it over? SH_

When John's phone went off with a text alert, he glanced down and was surprised to see it was Sherlock, although maybe he shouldn't have been. He read the text and moved into a different room, away from the movers. 

_For me? What is it? -JW_

_I don't open other people's packages. Is it your birthday? Should I just bin it or what? SH_

_It's not my birthday. But don't throw anything away. What if I gave you permission to open it? -JW_

_Are you giving me permission? For legal reasons, could you please send a snapshot of yourself in the actual process of giving me permission and then I will do whatever you want me to do. SH_

_I feel like this is a trick to get a photo of me. -JW_

_And if it were, would that matter? Am I supposed to open this, deliver it or just chuck it away? I really do need an answer. I may have forgotten to mention that the package is ticking so whatever you want me to do with it, I should probably do it rather soon. SH_

John chuckled. He took a selfie and sent it.

_Your trick worked. Don't blow up, okay? -JW_

Sherlock smiled at the photo. Things were back on track.

_I've opened the box. Its contents were unexpected. However, I am curious to know if this is the kind of thing you'd actually want. Shall I deliver it to you? SH_

_I realise I am getting nothing out of you unless I see you again. -JW_

John paused before sending it and tried to think when he could get away, and more specifically what he was going to tell Jessica. But why should he have to tell her anything odd? He was just going to meet a friend. 

_Correct. SH_

_I can meet you later today. -JW_

Sherlock smiled.

_Where and when? SH_

_Maybe around five again? I'll text you. You can pick where. - JW_

_The park near your surgery? I'll wait for your text. SH_

_Okay. - JW_

Sherlock went back to his computer to check for another case. There wasn't one but his brother had sent a request, so he grabbed his coat and headed out into the cool air to find the information his brother needed.

John put his phone away and came back to the sitting room, offering tea as the men continued to work. When they were halfway done Jessica came by, admiring the work before kissing John.

"I'm sorry about last night," she said.

John smiled softly and shook his head. "Don't worry about it. I'm sorry, too. I know the moving is stressful. You have to trust me," he said.

She smiled wider and kissed him again. "I know. Do you want to go out for dinner tonight?"

"I just agreed to meet a friend," he said.

"Mike again?"

"Uh, yeah," he said, glancing down and then at her again. Explaining how he'd met Sherlock would be a bit strange, and he didn't want to get into it now. He doubted Jessica's and Sherlock's paths would ever cross, but he made a mental note to mention him at some point later on.

"What time? We can go after," Jessica suggested.

"Around five, but we can meet at seven. I won't eat," John said. Jessica agreed and left the men to work while she started opening some boxes and putting away what she could, mostly kitchen things.

When the boys were finished with the carpeting John and Jessica walked around on it barefoot, smiling and planning where the furniture was going to go once they finally had it. She reminded him that they were going to the shop on his next day off to pick it out, and he tapped his temple to show that he remembered. They left the flat together.

"Is he still at Bart's?" Jessica asked, checking the time on her watch. 

"Who?"

"Mike," she said.

John shook his head. "He's meeting me at the surgery and we'll go from there," he said. 

"Okay. See you tonight then." She leaned in and kissed him, waving as she headed off. John watched her go for a moment before turning away to start walking as well. He pulled out his phone and texted Sherlock that he was on his way to the park. 

Sherlock had just located the information he needed when John's text arrive. This seemed like a good sign. He made his way over to the park, stopping in at a cafe to pick up two teas. He sat down on a bench to wait.

John stopped into a cafe on his way to the park and bought two teas, remembering Mike doing the same for him. It was a friendly gesture and after thinking that, he wondered why he had to explain it. He went to the park and walked until he found the right bench, laughing when he saw Sherlock holding two mugs. "Great minds, huh?" he smiled as he sat down. 

Sherlock smiled. "Yes, indeed," he said. He took a sip of tea. "It's nice when it's chilly out, don't you think?" he said. "This summer was too hot for me."

"Yes, it is much nicer," John said.

"I hope you haven't found our friendship annoying in any way," Sherlock said. "I'm not famous for my friendships, but . . ." He glanced over at John. "We are still friends, yes?"

"We are, yes," John smiled. He took a dip of his tea. "So where's this package then?"

"I'm afraid it exploded, John," Sherlock said, looking forward at the greenery. "I did say it was time-sensitive. I wonder why it was delivered to my place. My flat -- same address as on the card I gave you. Strange." He took another sip of tea. "So you are friends with Mike, the man you were with when we first met?"

"Yeah, Mike and I went to medical school together but he went into teaching after instead of practising." John sipped his tea and glanced over at Sherlock, remembering what Sarah had told him earlier. "How's your hand?" he asked, pulling it close to look. Sherlock had nice hands -- they were softer than John's, his fingers slender and long. He touched the red mark where the staple had been, probably doing so longer than was necessary. He cleared his throat and quickly let go. "It looks okay now."

"Are you going to inspect a different part of my body every time we meet, Doctor?" Sherlock asked.

"Well, you were hurt," he said, glancing over at him. "And the first time was not really my fault." 

"I didn't mind," Sherlock said before quickly adding, "Do you work full time then?"

"Yeah, especially now that we've moving into the new flat, it's a bit pricier."

Sherlock stopped breathing for just a second. We. No. No. No. This was not the plan. He swallowed awkwardly and finally spoke. "And you find the work . . . satisfying?"

"Yeah, I suppose. I started in A&E which was a lot more exciting, and then I went to the war and that was . . . well, anyway, the surgery is a bit boring but better than teaching," he smiled. "What do you do exactly? You said detective, but I saw you in the lab."

"I figure things out, I guess," Sherlock said. "I get cases and sometimes help the police and sometimes I just find solutions even if there's not really a problem, I suppose." He coughed a little and drank some more tea. "So you're married?" he asked.

John sipped more tea and shook his head. "No, I'm not married. We've been together for almost a year now. Do you have a girlfriend?"

Sherlock ignored the question and instead said, "Just a year and already moving in? A bit quick, isn't it? Do you normally rush in like that?"

"We've been practically living together for six months already," John admitted. "We worked together for a year before we started dating, so I've known her a long time."

"And you love her?" Sherlock asked.

John smiled softly. "Yeah I do." He was looking at his tea when he said it, so he made himself look up and smile at Sherlock. "You never said if you were dating or anything," he prompted again. 

"I'm not like that," Sherlock said.

"Oh, do you mean you have a boyfriend instead or you just don't date?" John asked, looking over at him again. 

"I'm not interested in dating," Sherlock said. "Because I'm not interested in finding the wrong ones. I'm interested in finding the right one."

John considered that for a moment. "How will you know the right one if you don't try?" he asked. 

"I'll know . . ." Sherlock said. "How did you know?"

John thought about that for a long time as well. "Well, I don't really, do I? But I love Jessica and we're happy enough so at least I know she's not the wrong one." He shrugged and sipped more tea. 

Sherlock looked over at John. "You've made a mistake, I'm afraid," he said. "Everyone you meet is either the right or wrong one. Therefore, if she's not a wrong one, she must be the right one."

"Well, how would you know the right one?" he asked, shifting to face him a bit better. 

"I'd know," Sherlock said.

"But how?" 

"It's all right if you don't believe me," Sherlock said. "I know."

"You sound like you have found them already," John said. 

"I have," Sherlock said.

"But you're not dating? Do they not know you?" he asked, trying to understand.

"I told you -- dating is for 'trying out'," Sherlock explained. "I don't need to 'try', I know. And yes, they do know me."

"They must not know how you feel," John said.

"I think they do," Sherlock said. He looked over at John. "I need the toilet now because I've drunk both of those teas."

"Oh, right," John said, standing up. He looked at the time and nodded. "I've got to leave for dinner. Um, it was nice hanging out with you."

"Perhaps we could do it again," Sherlock said.

"Yeah, definitely," John said. "Maybe coordinate who brings the tea," he added, smiling up at Sherlock.

"Excellent point," Sherlock said. "Actually, I may need your advice -- I've got a new client and I may have some medical questions. Is it all right if I just text you directly rather than going through your cheerful receptionist as a way of getting your attention?"

"Yes, of course. Please don't staple your hand again," he grinned.

"I'll try not to," Sherlock said. He reached out to shake John's hand.

John shook his hand and smiled up at him. "Okay good. So I'll talk to you soon then," he said, taking his cups from the bench to throw out on his way to the street.

"Yeah, you will," Sherlock said, smiling at John. He turned and walked away, feeling satisfied with how this had gone.

_____________________________________

John called Jessica and told her he was on his way. She picked a restaurant and John met her straight there. They talked about the new carpet and the colour furniture that would match, leading into what sort of pieces they wanted for the sitting room. John wanted an arm chair and she wanted an L shaped sectional. He wasn't sure all of that would fit, but they could figure that out when it was time. They walked back to John's flat holding hands and, for some reason, he thought about Sherlock's hands compared to Jessica's. He looked down at their hands, Jessica's so small in his own.

"What are you thinking about?" she asked.

John looked up and smiled. "Nothing really."

She raised her brows but didn't press the issue. When they got back, she tugged his hand before he could sit down, smiling slyly and heading for the bedroom. John followed easily, his mind focused only on her now.

_____________________________________

When Sherlock returned to the flat, he saw Mrs Hudson downstairs and invited her up for a cup of tea. She told him about her poker party, for which she had been doing the baking, and how she had been sure one of her friends had cheated. He tried his best to pay attention as she spoke.

When he was pretty sure she had finished, he said, "So you still don't believe me?"  
  
"Believe you about what?" she asked.

"About John Watson," Sherlock said.

Mrs Hudson hadn't been sure if she should mention Sherlock's previous revelation, but guessed now they were going to speak about it. "Of course, I believe you," she said. "Do you . . . still believe it?"

"Obviously," he said. "Why wouldn't I?"

"I don't know," she said. "Have you . . . spoken to him?"

"Obviously," Sherlock said. "I've seen him everyday."

"Seen him or spoken to him?"

Sherlock rolled his eyes. "I've not been stalking him . . . obviously, we've spoken."

"And you still . . . love him?"

"Obviously," Sherlock said.

"Well," she said, still trying to make sense of this strange situation. "Why?"

"Because we're meant to be together," he said impatiently.

"How do you know?"

Sherlock sighed. "I just do -- I know things, Mrs Hudson, knowing things is what I do. I know that John Watson is supposed to be in my life."

Mrs Hudson sat forward and put her cup down. "Sherlock, I've known you for some time and I've never known love to be of any interest to you -- you must see that this is all just a bit . . . unusual," she said softly.

Sherlock did see that. "I know this seems unusual to you --" he started.

"And does John Watson find it unusual?" she interrupted.

"I --" Sherlock began but decided not to answer. "I know this seems unusual and perhaps it is. Yes, it definitely is. You are right -- love has not really been something I've spoken much about."

She smiled. "I was unaware you were looking for it," she confessed.

"But don't you see? I wasn't -- that's the proof. I wasn't looking it, but it found me," he explained. "That's how life works."  
  
Mrs Hudson shook her head. "No, it isn't, Sherlock Holmes," she said, laughing a little. "Or I'd have found a four of a kind every hand!"

"But to win was what you wanted . . . not what you needed, not what was meant to be," he said.

"And John Watson is what you need?"

"Obviously."

She thought about it for a moment. Sherlock Holmes was indeed very clever, but it still seemed a little worrying to hear him talking like this. She stood up and walked over to ruffle his hair. "Well, I hope to meet him one day," she said.

"You will," he said confidently. "When he moves in."

"He's moving in?"

"Eventually," he said.

She sat back down. "Sherlock, maybe . . . slow down. If it's meant to be, surely there's no rush . . ."

"I know that," Sherlock said. "But it's going to happen."

"Well, let it happen when it happens. So it's going well, then? He's also interested in you?"

"Yes," Sherlock said. "He finds me interesting."

She tried not to smile. "Most people find you interesting but not all of them want to move in with you. I meant . . . is he -- does he love you too?"

Sherlock thought about it. He wondered if he should mention that, at the moment, John appeared to love someone else, but he was pretty sure he wouldn't like what Mrs Hudson would have something to say about that. "As you know, it sometimes takes other people longer to see what I can see," he said.

This time she did smile. "Well, I'm glad it's going well," she said, standing up again. "Let me know when he's ready to sign the lease," she added before heading back downstairs. 

Sherlock was pretty sure she still wasn't convinced. That didn't matter. Because he knew. He was absolutely sure.


	4. Their First Date

In the morning John woke up tangled with Jessica, the alarm beeping loudly out of his reach. He shifted away from her and turned it off, stretching as he got up. In the shower his mind drifted to Sherlock again, mostly because he was going into work and he wondered if Sherlock would make a reappearance.

He made tea and toast while Jessica got ready for work and they left together, her going one way and John going the other. It was a nice enough day to walk so he didn't bother with a cab. When he showed up the lobby was full like always so he got straight to work.

_____________________________________

Sherlock spent the morning with the client and immediately got started on his work. Once he had the background sorted, he needed to see the body. And he needed someone with medical expertise to also see the body. Of course, he had Molly, but since he knew a medical doctor with trauma experience . . . it seemed silly not to take advantage. He sent John a text.

_Can you meet me at the morgue at 5.30? SH_

John pulled out his phone as he was calling the next patient in, raising his brows as he considered it. The morgue? He wondered if this had anything to do with the case Sherlock was talking about when he said he might need help. John hadn't expected it to be needed so quickly.

_Yeah, I can meet you then. -JW_

He made a mental note to call Jessica on his lunch and tell her that he would be late. Would it be weird if he said he was meeting Mike again? Yes, there was a higher chance of her seeing Mike and asking about it. This would be his chance to tell her about Sherlock.

_____________________________________

Sherlock stopped in at the Yard and spent some time working with Lestrade. The case was obviously criminal, and he was ready to let them know. He kept an eye on the clock, though to make sure he could make it in time to the morgue.

"So is the dead man John Watson then?" Lestrade asked.

"What?" Sherlock said sharply. "No -- this is a different case," he said.

"Oh," Lestrade said. "So did you find your John Watson?"

"I did," Sherlock said. "That case is progressing well." He gathered up his stuff and headed over to the morgue. Luckily, Molly was working so he'd knew he and John would be able to be alone with the body. Which didn't sound quite as romantic as he hoped it would.

_____________________________________

As soon as John went on lunch, he called Jessica and told her that one of Mike's friends had requested his expertise in a case that he was working on with the police. She didn't seem too happy about that.

"The police? John, that sounds serious. Don't they have professionals for that?"

"I am a professional," John countered. 

"You're a doctor, but looking at dead bodies is not what you do. I don't understand why he's requested you."

John shrugged even though Jessica couldn't actually see him. "I don't know. I guess I will find out when I get there. It shouldn't be too long."

"I don't know. You can do what you think is right," she said. 

"I'll pick up dinner on the way home. See you later," he said before they hung up. He felt a bit uneasy about it because it was obvious Jessica was uncomfortable about it, but John's curiosity about this body and the case was greater than that uneasiness. He went back to work without finishing his break so he could hopefully get out early. 

When the end of the day finally arrived he rushed out of the office and headed for Bart's, glad that it was so close. He was early but he headed for the morgue anyways and hoped that Sherlock was already there. 

Sherlock smiled when John came through the door. He smiled as he introduced him to Molly and then gave her a look and she took off.

As he pulled back the sheet, he said, "Came in as a heart attack but his son suspects murder. No apparent wounds, tox was negative. Any ideas?" he said, still smiling.

John came closer and examined the body, looking for any sign of something else going on. "I'm not exactly an expert in this sort of thing," he admitted. He was a bit embarrassed to add that he didn't see anything on the outside. He could decide if it was a heart attack if they opened him up, but he doubted that was allowed. 

"Just talk me through what you're seeing," Sherlock said, leaning a bit closer to the body and to John.

John looked closely again and listed the few things that he noticed, things probably obvious to someone who wasn't trained at all. When he finished he looked at Sherlock and shrugged. "Sorry I couldn't help more."

Sherlock listened carefully, the information already helping him make connections to other bits of information he'd found earlier. "Perfect," he said. "You were perfect . . . thank you -- that's just what I needed."

"I, oh, well, good. I'm glad I was able to help," John said, wondering if Sherlock was just flattering him. 

Sherlock covered the dead man. "I see the world differently, John, I can see things others do not. Now I know you do as well. This was really helpful," he said. "Might I be able to ring you again if I need you?"

"Uh, yeah," John nodded. "Yeah, I wouldn't mind helping again. Is this for one of your cases then? For the police?" he asked. 

"It didn't start that way, but yes, the son was right about murder, so I'll pass our information on and let them take it from there," Sherlock said. "Can I treat you to dinner to show my thanks?" he asked.

"I'm supposed to pick up dinner on my way home," he said. He watched Sherlock for a moment before nodding. "But I could take something to go afterwards to bring home," he added. 

This was excellent news. "Excellent news," Sherlock said. "Let's go." He led John out after a quick thanks to Molly, and they grabbed a taxi. Sherlock called Lestrade and explained what they had found.

"And which doctor confirmed this?" Lestrade asked.

"His name's John Watson," Sherlock said and hung up before Lestrade could ask any more questions.

The taxi pulled up in front of Angelo's and Sherlock opened the door for John.

"I've never been here before," John said, looking around the little restaurant. "You won't get in any trouble because I'm not a proper professional, will you?"

"Of course, you're a proper professional," Sherlock said, taking the menus from Angelo and handing one of John. He set his own to the side. "The solution is what's important, and the police will happily take credit for that." He smiled when Angelo returned with two cups of tea and wrapped his hands around it to warm them. "I hope she likes Italian."

"Yeah, we both do," John smiled. He sipped at his tea before looking through his menu to decide what he wanted. 

"And did she like the fact that you were heading out to the morgue?"

"No," John admitted. "But only because she heard police and thought it was an official matter that probably didn't require a civilian." He shrugged and looked up at Sherlock again. "She was just worried there would be trouble."

"But you're not a civilian, are you? You're Army and a medical expert," Sherlock said.

"Well, I was Army and now I'm just . . . a doctor at the surgery," he said. 

"That's not true," Sherlock said. "That's not how you feel -- even if that's how you want to see yourself, you know that's not who you are."

John looked up at Sherlock again for a long time, considering what he'd just said. When he was sent home for being too injured from the war, he felt useless. He couldn't operate anymore and he couldn't fight anymore and even though he had moved on, he had never quite got over it. "I'm just a doctor at the surgery now," he said again, looking down at his menu. "I think I'll have the lasagna," he added to change the subject.  

"I apologise," Sherlock said quietly. "I am not skilled at social interactions." He picked at a piece of bread, tearing it into small pieces which he slipped into his mouth. "How was work today?" he asked.

John glanced up and felt his stomach squirm guiltily. No one ever talked about him coming home and not being able to work again. It was just something that existed now. But Sherlock had not only brought it up but still tried to make John seem extraordinary. He looked down again and licked his lips awkwardly. "Um, the same, really. It was pretty busy like always," he said. 

"No strange men?" Sherlock asked with a soft smile. "And my friend? I imagine she missed me today."

John smiled properly. "No strange men. And she was actually not at work today so if she missed you I wouldn't know." Angelo came over and took the orders before hurrying off again. John played with his napkin for a bit. "Has anything progressed with your 'right one'?"

"Hard to say really," Sherlock said. "I'm not worried." He looked over at John. "Things often work as they should -- for example, that man's son contacted me just days after I met the doctor who would help solve his father's murder."

"I didn't solve anything -- I mean, I'm sure that was you," John said. "You're the detective after all."

"I am and I'm an excellent detective," Sherlock said. "And an excellent detective knows when he needs someone else. I needed someone else and there you were." Just then Angelo came over with their food and set the plates down in front of them. "Enjoy," Sherlock said.

John smiled and dug into his meal, humming softly. "This is great," he said, cutting up his piece so it would cool faster.

"I'm glad," Sherlock said. "All and all, it's been a very satisfying day."

John smiled and nodded his head in agreement, even though he had only been involved in a few minutes of the interesting part. "Earlier, you used my name when you called the police. Are they going to come ask me questions?" John asked. 

"Unlikely," Sherlock said. "They know you can be trusted."

"Do they? From you?" John asked, smiling over at him. 

"They know I wouldn't involve anyone I didn't trust," Sherlock said.

John sat back a bit and let his eyes move over Sherlock's face for a moment, settling on his eyes. "And you trust me, then? Already?" he asked. 

"I do," Sherlock said, meeting John's gaze. "Have you lied to me yet?"

John shook his head. "No, I haven't."

"I know who I can trust," Sherlock said. He glanced at his watch. "I'm enjoying this, but I don't want to cause you any trouble. Do you want to put your order in?"

John nodded and waved Angelo over, ordering another lasagna and taking out his wallet to pay for it. He shook his head and hurried off. 

Sherlock smiled. "See? There are benefits to being my friend," he said, smiling.

"But I don't want . . . I mean, I know you said you'd treat but not all three," he said. 

"He won't charge me either," Sherlock said. "I'm a good man to know, John Watson." When Angelo brought the bag back to the table, Sherlock smiled and thanked him. He stood and walked with John outside. "Thank you once again," he said, gripping his arm lightly. 

John smiled and nodded. "Thank you," he said. "Just let me know when I can help again," he added. 

"I will indeed," Sherlock said before turning and heading home.

John turned and hailed a cab so he could get home faster. Jessica was upset that John had already eaten, but he explained how he had actually helped figure out the case and he was so excited about it that she gave in and get excited with him, asking questions about it and wondering if he would be mentioned when they finally reported the story. John shook his head and hoped they wouldn't. They went to bed and John sat his alarm before they curled up to sleep. 

At home in his bed, Sherlock thought about John and the time they'd spent together. John had helped, just like Sherlock had known he would. And he had enjoyed every moment they had spent together. He knew John didn't understand just yet, but he did -- he felt comfortable with John. It felt normal, no, it was more than that. Sherlock felt good around John -- being with John made Sherlock feel good. No one had ever made him feel that way. He did his best not to think about what John was doing now. He did his best not to think of her. The universe would soon make things right.


	5. Sherlock Makes A Move

The next few days were some of the busiest John had every worked. A flu strain had started spreading around, hitting the elderly the hardest. He worked straight for three days and saw about sixty cases, many of which he had to send straight to hospital. A few days after he had helped Sherlock with the case, the story was on the news and John paused in the lobby to watch as the DI talked about where they found the guy. Neither Sherlock nor John was mentioned. He sent Sherlock a quick text about the story and how exciting it was and then took a call from Jessica who had also seen the news. While John continued to see patients he hoped there would be another case soon -- it had been exciting helping with something like that, something so serious. 

Sherlock was pleased when he received John's text. He sent back one more thank you, but decided not to say more. He wanted to give John time to think, to realise. He spent quite a lot of time looking at John's picture, though. He also checked his email multiple times a day, hoping for another case, another chance to contact John. 

It finally came a few days later. He met with the client -- there was really no need for John's medical expertise. That was only a minor detail.

_New case. Might you be able to meet tomorrow? SH_

John was excited when he got the text but then thought for a moment. Tomorrow was his first day off in a while, and they were supposed to be going to furniture shopping. But he was eager to see Sherlock. 

_What time exactly?-JW_

_Whatever suits. SH_

_I have to go to furniture shopping at noon, can I meet you afterwards? - JW_

_I'll be around. 221B Baker Street. SH_

_Okay, see you then. - JW_

When John got home from work that night, he sat down for dinner with Jessica and cleared his throat. "So, I've been asked to help with another case."

Jessica looked up and furrowed her brows. "I thought that was a one time thing."

"I thought so too, but I guess it wasn't."

Jessica licked her lips. "The police asked for you again?"

"No, um, no. It's a consulting a detective -- Mike's friend -- and he asked for me."

"Why?"

John stared at her.

"I just mean . . .the police have professionals."

"But it's not the police --"

"The detective, whatever. He doesn't have professionals to work with?"

"Well, he doesn't employ anyone. He just asked for some help."

Jessica took a deep breath. "We're getting the furniture tomorrow."

"I know. I'll be going afterwards," he said.

Jessica stared at him for a moment before shrugging. "Whatever you want, John. I don't know how long we'll be."

John didn't say anything else after that, going back to his meal. She said she wanted to go to bed early, and John let her. He stayed up a bit longer, wondering what kind of case it was going to be and making up a hundred different interesting stories. When he finally did go to bed he dreamt about solving another case, only this time they put him on the news and gave him credit.

_____________________________________

When Sherlock opened his eyes, he knew today was going to be important. He stayed in bed thinking for a few moments and then got up for a cup of tea. He checked his email as he drank his tea, and then got up and tidied the flat. He organised the case file and then showered and dressed. He sat down on the sofa to wait.

_____________________________________

John slept in a bit and woke up feeling better than he had in days. He liked having a lie in. He got ready and headed down to make tea and a quick breakfast, before they headed out to the shop. By the time they got to there, their spirits were high.

Unfortunately it didn't last very long. As they walked around looking, Jessica was getting more and more frustrated. Nothing was the right colour and nothing looked like it would fit in the room and suddenly there was no way he could have an arm chair. Eventually he had to pull her to a stop and remind her that they could always look somewhere else. They still had his flat and, if anything, they could use their old furniture.

That pushed her right over and she announced the trip was over. She told him to go to his stupid case and that she was going home. John tried to stop her but it was useless. On the pavement, he considered going after her but his curiosity was pulling him to the case. She needed to cool off anyway. He hailed a cab and gave Sherlock's address.

_On my way. - JW_

Sherlock took a deep breath and got up to put on the kettle. He looked at himself briefly in the mirror, but then decided that to do so was a bit stupid and also unnecessary. Regardless of his appearance or how tidy the flat was or her existence, he and John were meant to be together. He waited until he heard the knock downstairs to pour the tea and then went down to answer the door.

John smiled up at Sherlock and raised his hand in a wave. "Hello. Oh, I didn't bring anything," he realised suddenly.

"You weren't supposed to bring anything," Sherlock said. "You're all I need. Your brain, rather. Come up." He led John upstairs to the flat and motioned for him to sit as he went to get the tea.

"Wow," John said as he looked around. There was so much to take in, so much to see.

Sherlock glanced around. "This is where I live," he said, which was kind of stupid to say, but he wanted John to see everything, to know him, and to realise it was where he belonged as well.

John looked around more closely now, taking in the messy desk, covered in papers, the random beakers and solutions and reference books. Then he saw the two arm chairs and smiled, pointing to the closest one. "I was looking for an armchair, but it didn't work out," he said.

"I've got two," Sherlock said. He grabbed a folder from his desk and then sat down in his chair. "I was hoping I could talk the case through with you -- you can look at the details in a moment. Feel free to interrupt with questions. That all right?"

John nodded and moved to sit in the second armchair, facing Sherlock. "Yes, that works."

Sherlock started talking. At first, he just explained the facts but soon enough his theories were weaved in, and he watched John's face for reactions. At one point, there was doubt so he backtracked and restated it, and it made more sense the new way. At another point, John interrupted with a question, and he went into more detail, finding something there he hadn't previously considered. And eventually, he thought he saw a bit of amazement on John's face, and that made Sherlock feel very good indeed. When he finished, he leaned forward and handed John the folder. He stood up and moved to the window and stared out at the street as John read.

John looked through the notes and recalled everything Sherlock had said. "You're amazing," he murmured, looking up at him. "This is fantastic, Sherlock."

Sherlock smiled and his body felt warm. He let himself enjoy that moment of pleasure. Then he swallowed and said, "I got paid, you know. For the case you helped me solve. I'll get paid for this one as well."

John looked up at Sherlock, unsure what to say. "That's good. I'm glad," he said. "You worked hard."

"Some of the money should go to you," Sherlock said, turning around to face him again.

"What? Oh no," he said quickly. "No, I hardly did anything!"

"John," Sherlock said seriously. "Trust me, you helped -- I do not need help very often, I do not ask for help. But I asked for yours and you helped. That has value."

"Sherlock please, I don't want money," he said. "It was fun, I liked being able to help with the case but I don't want money."

"All right," Sherlock said, moving back to his chair. "Money isn't the only way to indicate value. What do you want?"

"I don't want anything. I just want to be able to help again," he said. "Besides, you already took me to dinner."

"Will you help again?" Sherlock said. That was all he wanted to hear. Well, at least at the moment, that would be enough.

John nodded. "Yeah, I'd like that."

"I'd like that too," Sherlock said. "There's space here -- for you to work, I mean. And I can at least cover costs -- if you won't let me pay for you your time, I can get taxis and whatever. I've had a good streak, but in truth, I don't have cases all the time so for now, we can work around your schedule."

"Well, we can figure all of that out as we go along," he said.

"Yes," Sherlock said. "We'll figure it all out." He smiled. "Well, I don't suppose you can stay much longer, can you . . . I'm sure you've got other responsibilities." He leaned back and crossed his legs.

"I don't have to rush off immediately. I can stay as long as we need -- unless we're done already," he said quickly. He stood and held the folder out for Sherlock.

"I think I might need you to stay a bit longer then," Sherlock said. He stood up to turn on the kettle again. "I'm afraid, I'm not a very good host -- there's not much food in the flat. I think I've got some biscuits, if you'd like them," he added.

"No, I'm okay," John said. He watched Sherlock in the kitchen for a moment before sitting down again. "So how did you get into this kind of work?"

"Well, I suppose my brother," Sherlock said. "He's involved with . . . well, he's involved with everything really and I started to doing some investigations for him and then it just kind of went from there, I guess." He went back to the sitting room and handed John his mug. "I've got a website to drum up my own business, but it doesn't get a lot of traffic so I still rely on him or the police to find work."

"Oh, I see. Well, maybe I can mention you on my blog and try to send people your way."

"You have a blog?" Sherlock said, even though he'd already found it and read it. "Why?"  
  
"Yeah. When I came back injured from the war, my therapist thought it would help me assimilate to normal life again."

"Has it?" Sherlock asked.

John nodded. "Yeah, I suppose it did a little bit." He didn't want to get into the nightmares and all of that with him.

"Is that what you want then?" Sherlock asked. "A normal life?"

"Well, maybe." John looked over at him and smiled. "I don't like being bored."

"I don't live a normal life, John," Sherlock said.

"I know," he said, looking around the room again. Sherlock's life was exciting -- at least that's how it seemed to him. Cases and experiments and . . . an armchair. He looked at Sherlock again and smiled. "I know."

"And now you're a part of it," Sherlock said, smiling and raising his mug a little as if making a toast.

John smiled and raised his mug as well. "It's very interesting how this came to be," he smiled.

"It is," Sherlock said. "The universe is quite clever that way."

John met his gaze for a moment before feeling his cheeks flush lightly. He looked down at his mug and swirled the last of the tea. "I should go soon," he said.

"I understand," Sherlock said. "I'm glad you came, John. I'm glad for your help, of course, but I mean…I'm just glad we know each other." He set his mug down and stood up.

John stood up and took his mug to the kitchen before going to the door to get his coat. "Thanks for everything. Let me know how this case turns out," he said. 

Sherlock walked John to the door, helping him on with his coat. He let his hand rest lightly on John's lower back. "I will," he said. "You know where I am now -- you'll always welcome here, John." He looked closely at his face, wondering if John knew yet. He dropped his hand and stepped back to open the door.

John felt the slight pressure on his back and he looked up, blinking when he saw how close Sherlock was. Close enough to kiss. As he spoke his breath ghosted over John's face. "Okay," he murmured. He left the flat and headed for his own, not hailing a cab yet. What had just happened? That closeness . . . was it intentional? What was Sherlock playing at?

Sherlock listened to John close the downstairs door and then went to the window and watched him walk down the street. He wished he could call to him, tell him to come back, come home. It had been so good with John here, so . . . right. He watched John until he couldn't see him anymore and then went to his desk to go to work on the case.

_____________________________________

John got a cab and went home, trying to put the whole thing out of his mind. Surely he was just seeing things. Why would Sherlock be hitting on him? It didn't makes any sense.

Jessica was at the flat, making dinner. "You took a while," she said.

John looked up and said, "Oh, yeah, we were going over notes."

"Notes? I thought you were just looking at a body."

"He wanted some help with his notes . . . wanted my input." He wondered if he had an odd tone to his own voice, as if he was hiding something. But he wasn't. That was what had really happened. Until the last minute. No. That was nothing.

"So now you're playing detective too?" Jessica raised her brows. John didn't reply. "Whatever. We have an appointment with painters on your next day off." She stood and put her dishes in the sink, pausing in front of him. "John, what's going on with you?"

"Nothing," John said. He leaned in and gave her a soft kiss.

"Are you angry with me?"

"No," he said, leaning in and giving her a soft kiss.

They sat down together to eat dinner.

_____________________________________

By the time Sherlock stopped working for the evening, he was pretty sure he had everything solved. He would need to double check a few things in the morning, but he knew that he'd be able to contact the client with a definite answer tomorrow.

When he crawled into bed, he closed his eyes and imagined what it would be like when John finally saw the truth and lived here for good. John was so handsome -- Sherlock had loved being able to look over and see that handsome face here in the flat. It had been so hard to resist moving closer, reaching over, and kissing him. He'd have to make due with the small touches they'd shared. He rolled onto his side and thought about his hand on John's back. He wished John were here now, in this bed, beside him.

_____________________________________

When John went to bed, after taking a long time to try and clear his thoughts, he was glad that Jessica quickly fell to asleep. Clearing his brain hadn't worked at all -- it was still at Sherlock's, still with that lovely hand on his back. He squeezed his eyes shut and tried to think about why he would have done that. And his face! He had been close enough to kiss and it had surprised John that that's the first thought that has crossed his mind when he had looked up.

He finally fell asleep, but his brain slipped into a dream where he was back at Sherlock's flat. Without any kind of set up, the scene opened to John and Sherlock making out on the armchair, the one he had sat in that afternoon. Sherlock was in his lap, grinding down on him as they kissed heatedly. And he felt it -- he felt Sherlock's weight and he felt Sherlock's hard cock rubbing against his own -- and that was when he snapped awake, panting softly and palming himself under the covers. What was happening to him?


	6. John Makes A Move

Sherlock woke to the thought of John. He knew today was another day closer to everything aligning properly so they could be together. He got up and made himself a cup of tea, taking it over to his chair.

"Sherlock?" Mrs Hudson called as she tapped on the door.

He got up to let her in. "Good morning, Mrs Hudson," he said. "You look particularly lovely today." He moved to the kitchen to pour her some tea.

"Sherlock," she said, blushing a bit. She sat down on the sofa and glanced around the room. "It seems different in here."  
  
"I agree," he said, bringing the tea over to her. He sat back down.

She looked over at him. He looked different as well. "Does this have anything to do with love?" she asked.

"Perhaps," he said, smiling. "John visited yesterday."

"I see," she said. "And does this mean things are going well?"

"I think so," he said. He was still smiling.

"Are you being sensible?" she asked cautiously.

"Aren't I always?" he answered.

They both knew the answer, but she just smiled back, hoping he would be all right.

_____________________________________

John didn't go back to sleep after his dream. He slipped out of bed and took a long shower, trying to get his mind together for the day. When he got out he made breakfast for the both of them and left a note for Jessica before leaving for work. He hoped that she wouldn't be upset, but he couldn't sit in the quiet flat with his thoughts. He walked to work, letting the sounds of the early morning commuters drown out his own thoughts. He hoped there were patients at the surgery already, so he could easily fall into another distraction.

Unfortunately it didn't work like he planned. While he kept himself busy, his mind was throwing out questions. Why would Sherlock flirt with him? Had he meant to or was it a mistake? Was John reading too much into it? How was he supposed to face Sherlock now? By lunch his mind had moved into denial. It couldn't possibly be what John thought. His dream was the result of the sudden amount of time they were spending together, and Sherlock didn't even know about the dream. John would simply pretend that it hadn't happen, and everything would be normal.

But things weren't normal. By the end of his lunch he was realising that this was getting a bit out of hand. His first thought when he had looked up with Sherlock so close was to kiss him. And as shocked as he was by that, he was still thinking about it, wondering randomly what his lips would taste like and what his hands would feel like holding John's head and his face and . . .no. This needed to be addressed and cleared up.

_We need to talk. Meet me at the park at 5 please. -JW_

Sherlock returned from wrapping up the case -- he'd met the client who was pleased with the result and had paid him handsomely. He was feeling satisfied and had just poured a cup of tea when he received John's text. It wasn't precisely what he'd wanted to see -- the need to talk part could be positive but the fact that he wanted to meet at the park rather than come to the flat was a little worrying. He glanced at the clock, realising he had time to drink his tea.

_I'll be there. SH_

Okay. John put his phone away and got back to work. He would simply tell Sherlock that he wasn't interested in anything more than friendship and that would be that. He practised it in his head until it was time to go. He packed up his things and rushed out, heading to the same bench as the first time.

Sherlock stopped to get two teas on his way to the park, but this time he let John arrive first. If John needed to talk, Sherlock would let him. Sherlock would let John do whatever he needed to do to make sense of it all.

John couldn't sit, pacing in front of the bench as he waited for Sherlock. When he saw him approaching his stomach did a violent flip. He rehearsed the words over and over in his head.

"I brought tea," Sherlock said, sitting down on the bench. He couldn't help smiling a little, just seeing John's face, but he sensed that John was tense so he tried to keep his own face as neutral as possible.

"I--oh," he said, taking the tea and setting it on the bench. "Look . . . this is . . .I'm not good at this. This isn't easy for me so . . . so yeah." He took a deep breath and started again. "It's about yesterday . . . before I left . . ."

Sherlock took a sip of tea. "Yes?" he said, waiting for John to go on.

"I -- well, at the end you were close and I -- I just wondered why," John took another deep breath, realising how stupid he sounded. What if he'd overreacted? 

"I suppose I was," Sherlock said. "I suppose I just feel close to you in other ways already. I suppose I just felt like being close to you in that way as well. I apologise if you didn't like it."

"I'm not -- I mean, it's not that," he said, and then his cheeks burned because what exactly was it then? He looked at Sherlock and licked his lips, moving a bit closer. "It's just . . . I don't . . ." He was rambling, using the words as excuses to get closer and closer. He knew what was coming and he couldn't stop. He closed the space and kissed Sherlock's mouth.

Sherlock lifted his free hand to John's head, losing his fingers in his hair. He let John kiss him. It felt good as he knew it would.

A second later John pulled away from the kiss and physically moved away from the bench. "I…I'm sorry," he mumbled. "I have to go." He turned and hurried off, feeling like he could still taste Sherlock on his lips. The kiss -- he didn't know what had come over him, but he couldn't deny what he had felt. He didn't know what he was going to do.

Sherlock wasn't quite sure what to do. He didn't want John to leave, but he didn't want to upset him. He sat there for a few moments and then got out his phone and stared at it for a few moments. But he wasn't sure what he should say. He sat for a few more moments, picked up both cups to tea, tossed them into the bin and walked home.

John walked the whole way home, hoping that by the time he had arrived it wouldn't be written all over his face. Why had he kissed Sherlock? He was getting the words out, however slowly, and then he messed it all up by kissing him. And his hand! A small part of John was floating because, as suspected, his hand felt amazing holding John close. Sherlock didn't push John away. He had wanted it too. He paused midstep. Too. As in John had also wanted it. He touched his lips and admitted to himself that it was good. It felt good. 

But it couldn't be. It couldn't. He started off again and stuffed his hands into his pockets. He needed to get home to Jessica. Maybe he would take her out tonight. Yes. Everything would be normal again in no time.

_____________________________________

Sherlock flopped onto the sofa as soon as he returned, closing his eyes immediately. He went to his mind palace, where John now lived as well. He found him, sitting on a bench which became the sofa and then his bed. They looked at each other and kissed. And kissed and kissed until Sherlock got lost in the kisses, and the world outside didn't matter and night fell without him.

_____________________________________

At the flat Jessica was just starting dinner when John pulled her up and kissed her. He regretted it immediately because he worried she might taste Sherlock on him, never mind the fact that he didn't feel anything close to what he had felt when kissing Sherlock. When he pulled back she was blinking at him in surprise. "Let's go out for dinner," he said. 

"What's got into you?" she asked. 

John shook his head. "I've just missed you."

Jessica was still weary but she agreed. She talked about when they could finish up with the furniture and get it moved in. John convinced her to wait until they had painted the rooms as well so they don't have to move everything twice. The dinner went well. John kept up his pretending that things were normal and it bled into the atmosphere, making both of them act naturally so that they tension from earlier was gone. 

Of course, over the next few days, his brain kept drifting to Sherlock, but he tried to block those thoughts. Even when he saw the news story of the most recent case, he didn't text Sherlock to congratulate him. As the days passed he avoided any other contact with Sherlock, focusing on Jessica and the jobs still needed to be done at the new flat. But he was working a lot as well so they didn't get to do much of anything besides pick out paint colours. 

When it had almost been a week since he had seen Sherlock, John had another dream. This one wasn't as fast paced, but it was the same kind. John had met Sherlock at his flat and was led to the armchair, where Sherlock slowly climbed into his lap and they started kissing again. Things progressed slowly to the same level of the first dream and when his dreamself finished, he was pulled out of sleep, swearing softly when he saw that he had finished in real life as well. He glanced at Jessica and thanked God she was still sleeping. He crept out of bed, took a shower and then tossed his clothes among the dirty laundry. As he looked at his reflection in the mirror he practically see the wheels in his head working. He was going to see Sherlock again. He wanted to. He checked the time -- it was almost nine. They were going to go paint the flat later. If he told her he was called in for an emergency, he could be back by noon. He dressed quickly and scribbled out the note, leaving the flat quietly. 

He headed for Sherlock's, walking the whole way because he was so nervous. He thought about texting him to let him know but he couldn't bring himself to do it. He'd lose his nerve. When he arrived he knocked on the door loudly, both hands stuffed into his pockets. 

Sherlock had not contacted John. He hadn't had a case anyway so he couldn't have used that as an excuse. He wanted to see him, of course, and still had every bit of faith that things would eventually work out as they should. But just as he had no control over the fact that John was the one, he also knew he had no control over whatever was going on in John's head.

He was at his desk looking over his email when he heard a knock on the door. He slipped on his dressing gown and went down. It was John. "Come in," he said and stepped to the side.

John looked up at Sherlock and moved inside, glancing at the stairs and then at Sherlock. He didn't know what to say -- couldn't think of a single word -- but he didn't want to stay here in the hall. "Are we going up?" he asked, thinking about every word. 

"Yes," Sherlock said, leading the way. He moved into the kitchen and turned on the kettle. "It'll be a few minutes," he said, getting out two cups. "I wasn't expecting you."

John moved into the kitchen and pushed him away from the kettle, holding his sleeves as Sherlock bumped the wall. John gazed up at him, his lips parted slightly as his brain tried to catch up. There was no protest, only a long moment of quiet waiting. Breathless. And then he leaned up and kissed Sherlock again, this time pressing his body against Sherlock's in an attempt to get closer. 

Sherlock slipped his hand into John's hair again, tipping his head to deepen the kiss. He'd been thinking about this everyday since they'd be in the park. He pulled John towards him, sliding his other arm around John's body, squeezing him tightly.

"I don't understand," John mumbled between kisses, tilting his head to deepen it again, licking into Sherlock's mouth to taste him. 

"It's okay," Sherlock said softly. He stopped and looked into John's eyes. "This is how it should be," he said before he kissed him again, tenderly holding his face as he did.

John didn't know what he meant about 'should be' but he knew this felt good. Every nerve in his body seemed to be on fire. His own hands slid up around Sherlock's neck, his fingers curling in Sherlock's hair as they continued to kiss against the wall. 

Sherlock didn't want this to stop -- not the kiss, not John being here, not any of it. He knew it would -- John had said they needed to talk and would probably want to -- but Sherlock could not bring himself to stop this when it felt so right.

Finally John pulled away enough to take a proper breath, panting softly while keeping his forehead on Sherlock's, as if he wasn't ready to properly be away just yet. 

Sherlock let both of his arms slip around John's to hold him. "It'll be okay," he whispered.

John only shook his head in reply. How could it be? He was moving into a new flat with his long time girlfriend and was now not only thinking about kissing Sherlock, but actually in his flat doing it. "How?" he asked softly. 

"Because this is what's right," Sherlock said. "We'll figure it out." His voice was still a whisper. He knew the words themselves weren't very reassuring, but if only John knew how deeply Sherlock believed them.

John swallowed hard. "I-I have to go paint," he stuttered, raising his gaze to meet Sherlock's. He wanted to stay here and keep kissing him forever.

"John," Sherlock said. "I will wait for as long as you need . . . but this is what I want -- not just this, but . . . us."

The panic from the first kiss started creeping in again. How could they have an 'us'? He leaned up and kissed him again, softer this time. Could they? They would figure it out. Sherlock said so. He said 'they' which meant John didn't have to do this alone. "Okay," he said, moving to pull away now. 

Sherlock let John step away, not adding anymore. He moved back to the kettle. "Stay for a cup?" he said, clicking the kettle again before pouring two cups.

John nodded. "Yeah," he said, leaning against the wall Sherlock had just left. 

Sherlock carried the tea into the sitting room, taking his place on his chair. He made a little cough and then took a sip of tea. "I've not had any new cases," he said. "That's -- well, that's part of the reason why I've not been in contact."

John moved and sat in the armchair across from him. "Well, I am partly to blame for that as well," he admitted. 

"That's okay, John," Sherlock said. "Whatever you need . . ." He took another sip of tea.

John bit his lip and watched Sherlock for a moment. "What do you need? What is all of this about?" he asked.

"I don't need anything," Sherlock said. "I mean . . . there's something here, isn't there? Something different? You see that, right?"

"I don't know . . . I don't know," John said softly.

Sherlock knew that wasn't entirely true. "You do see the difference, John . . . you just don't understand it yet. I do, but that doesn't matter. You've got to understand it for yourself."

John looked up at him and nodded even though he wasn't sure what Sherlock meant. Sherlock sounded like he already knew something about them, but John didn't see how. John was in a relationship and things wouldn't be easy.

"I want to see you," Sherlock confessed. "I want to see you . . . well, everyday, if I'm honest, but I'll wait, John, I'll wait until you . . . know."

"To know what?" John asked. "I know that I want to keep seeing you as well, I just don't . . . I don't think it's a good idea and yet I want to." He rubbed his neck awkwardly and took a sip of his tea. "I want to," he sighed softly. 

"If we don't see each other," Sherlock said. "What will that change?" He shifted a little in his chair. "I mean, I'm not being ignorant -- I understand the situation. But seeing each other . . . is that the problem? Or is the problem . . . that you want to see me?"

John bit his lip and stared down at his tea. "I want to," he answered quietly. "But I shouldn't."

"Why?" Sherlock said.

"Because I'm not single," he said. He flicked at the handle of his mug, still not looking up.

"I know," Sherlock said. "I know. And I know you think she might be the one and I do respect that, even though I know you're wrong. If you think not being around me would help, I understand." He got up and moved over to John's chair. "I do, John," he said, bending down and touching his hand. "Like I said. . . whatever you need."

John swallowed hard before turning his hand to hold Sherlock's. "We will see, okay?"

Sherlock smiled and stood up again. He moved over and glanced out the window and then at his desk. "Should I still contact you if I get a case?" he asked.

John stood up and nodded. "Yes please," he said, taking his mug to the sink again. "I really should go now."

Sherlock watched John move through the flat -- he was comfortable here and that made Sherlock glad. "Okay," he said, moving towards the door to help John with his coat. "I'm glad you came over," he added. "I won't touch your back if you'd rather I not."

"I think we're a bit past that," John said, looking up at him a bit expectantly.

Sherlock slipped his hand to John's lower back and tipped his head to give him a soft kiss. He pulled back and looked at John smiling.

"See you," John said, hurrying out of the flat and down the stairs. This was happening now. He was cheating on Jessica with another man. But what he felt . . . it wasn't ordinary. He was going to have to properly figure this out. He hailed a cab and headed back to his flat, remembering the painting and changing the directions to the new one. Everything would be fine.

Sherlock watched John from the window and then moved to lie down on the sofa. But the sofa was too fresh with John, so instead he went into lie on his bed. He was pretty sure the visit had gone well -- he'd certainly liked the kissing -- but suddenly he could see how big this all was, and it was a little overwhelming. He didn't want to think about it now. He closed his eyes and tried to make his head empty so he could sleep for a while.


	7. Something Happens

When John arrived he found Jessica already painting, one wall almost done. "Did you see my note?" he asked, taking off his coat and jumping right in.  
  
"I didn't want to wait. I feel like you might be dragging your feet a bit, if I'm honest."  
  
John looked over at her and shook his head. "I got called into work," he said, hoping his voice sounded more normal to her than it did to himself. "I'm sorry."

When they were finished Jessica took a deep breath and looked at John.  
  
"We can move our bedroom here now," she said.  
  
John looked back at her. "We can set up for movers," he said. "But, I can't terminate the lease until the end of the month or it'll be triple the amount with fees."  
  
Jessica narrowed her eyes, just for a second, before looking around the room again. "Let's order some food."  
  
They had pizza delivered to the new flat and they ate on the floor of the new sitting room, making comments about how nice the furniture would look when it was finally delivered. They went home together and went to bed, Jessica curling close to him. He took a slow steady  
breath, glad that she wasn't angry and they things were moving along normally. He didn't know how long he could keep this up, and he knew that depended on when he figured out what was going on in his head about Sherlock. But he pushed it away for now, trying to think about  
something else. The last thing he needed was saying Sherlock's name while he slept.

_____________________________________

When Sherlock opened his eyes again, he felt a bit better. He realised that all he could do was be true to what he felt and respect John for doing the same. So while he felt the urge to contact John, to get him to come to the flat again, he would work hard to resist it. This was not his strong point in most situations, but he also knew this wasn't like most situations. This was the one and only time he'd ever do this -- he'd never meet the one again -- so he'd have to be patient. For now he'd have to make do with looking at John's picture and remembering the kisses.

_____________________________________

In the morning John made tea but skipped breakfast, trying to kiss away the look on Jessica's face when he was rushing about to leave. He knew Sherlock was past the days of coming into the office with fake illnesses, but it would be easier to text him while he was at work. And see him at lunch. And the fact that he was even considering these things were a bit troubling but he couldn't help himself.

_____________________________________

A new case had come through so Sherlock spent the morning working on that. Obviously his first thought was to contact John, but in truth, the case was a relatively simple one -- he knew the solution immediately and really only needed to locate the proof to pass to the client -- so he worried that it might be kind of manipulative to get John over here. He mapped out his plan and then took a shower before getting dressed.

_____________________________________

John was sitting at his desk with his phone in front of him, waiting for any kind of notification. When it was getting close to lunch he decided to make the first move. 

_Slow day. How's yours? -JW_

Sherlock picked up his phone and smiled.

_Just working. Shouldn't you be? SH_

_I told you, slow day. Technically I am working because I am here. -JW_

_You must be too good of a doctor if no one's ill. SH_

John grinned and leaned back in his chair. 

_Maybe. It's not good business, mind you. That sounded bad. Sorry. -JW_

_I'll forgive you. And how are you feeling today? SH_

_In general I feel good. About what we're doing, I'm still uneasy. But I can't stop thinking about you. -JW_

_I've been thinking about you as well. I wish the thoughts didn't make you uneasy, though I understand why they do. SH_

_I don't mean you make me uneasy. I just feel guilty, I suppose. I've been thinking about your question. I want this. -JW_

_I don't want you to feel anything but good, though again I understand your situation is not the same as my own. SH_

John licked his lips and considered his next words, knowing their weight would be heavy.  

_You make me feel good. -JW_

That made Sherlock's whole body warm. John made him feel good as well. But Sherlock didn't have a girlfriend at home, so he knew that John must feel things other than just good about the whole situation.

_I'm glad. What do you want to do about that? SH_

John looked out into the empty lobby, biting his lip. What were the chances that Jessica would come visit him at work? Slim, especially without calling first. 

_Can I see you? -JW_

_I'd like that. SH_

_There's no one here. Can you meet now? -JW_

Sherlock stood up quickly before sitting back down and thinking. Of course, he wanted to see John -- he just hadn't thought it'd be so soon.

_Of course. SH_

_You're sure? I know it's sudden. -JW_

_Of course I'm sure. Do you want to come to mine? SH_

_I can.-JW_

John went and told Sarah he was going to take an early day and that she could call him if it suddenly picked up later. He hurried out and hailed a cab, wanting to get there quickly in case he was called back again. 

_On my way. -JW_

Sherlock tried to tidy up a little even though there was nothing to tidy. He put the kettle on and waited. He felt so eager. He went downstairs to wait at the door.

John paid quickly and hurried to the door, knocking and smiling when Sherlock opened the door right away. "Hello." 

Sherlock was smiling stupidly the moment he saw John. "Come up, yeah?" he said, turning and leading him upstairs.

John closed the door and followed him upstairs, keeping close. He hung his jacket and looked around a bit before moving into the kitchen with Sherlock. "I didn't interrupt anything, did I?"

"No," Sherlock said. "Well, I've got to go out in a bit but honestly, I wanted you to come over. I'm just . . . glad to see you." He poured two cups of tea.

"Oh, sorry," he said, taking the mug. "I didn't even think . . . is it a case?" he asked. 

"Kind of -- I didn't get in touch because it was just a quick one and . . . I didn't want you to think I was pressuring you," Sherlock said, looking down at his mug.

"I'm not upset," John said quickly. "I was just making conversation. I want to seem a bit polite before I start kissing you again."

"Are you going to start kissing me again?" Sherlock asked softly.

"Yes," John nodded. "If you want to."

"I do," Sherlock said, setting his mug done.

John set his own mug down and moved closer, touching Sherlock's face before leaning up to kiss him.

Sherlock let John kiss him. He wanted to grab him, kiss him harder and longer, but he also had to be sure John was okay with all this. Sherlock knew it was right -- he knew that eventually John would know and they'd be together forever -- but this wouldn't work until John knew it too.

John brought his hands up and looped both around Sherlock's neck, tilting his head to deepen the kiss.

Now Sherlock stepped closer, sliding his arms around John's body, pulling it towards his own. It felt so good -- this feeling was something Sherlock hadn't thought of in years, had never missed or wanted or needed -- but now with John, it was perfect.

John moaned softly and tugged him even closer, deepening the kiss as he pressed against Sherlock. One hand tangled in his hair and the other around his neck.

"This feels good," Sherlock mumbled against the kiss. It sounded stupid, but it was so true. He lifted one of his hands to hold John's, lowering it from his own neck to John's side. He squeezed it. All of a sudden this kiss wasn't just sexy, it was meaningful -- it bonded them. It proved that Sherlock was right: they were meant to be together.

John squeezed his hand back and laced their fingers, pulling back to look up at him. "Sherlock."

Sherlock smiled softly. "Do you want tea or not?" he said, laughing a little. He turned and picked up the mugs. "Would you like to see my room?" he asked, turning towards his bedroom.

"I'd like to skip the tea and see your room," John said, smiling softly.

"There should always be tea available," Sherlock said. "A good host knows that." He thought about the words for a moment, hoping one day John would live here and Sherlock would no longer be host. He walked into his bedroom and set the mugs on the table. Then he sat down on the bed.

John watched him for a moment, considering sitting on the bed himself. But instead, he moved between Sherlock's knees, holding his face again and looking over every inch. It was odd to find a man so beautiful but there was no other way to describe Sherlock. He was so handsome, with bright eyes and full lips. He couldn't stop looking. 

Sherlock felt his face flush as John looked at him, but he looked back. John's face was handsome but comforting, too. It made Sherlock feel something he'd never felt about another human. He stretched his neck and put a soft kiss on John's mouth.

John leaned down to deepen the kiss, still holding his face. He licked into his mouth, moaning softly into the kiss.

Sherlock pulled on John as he lay back on the bed. He wanted to feel his weight on him, feel that closeness.

John moved with him, climbing up on the bed and half laying between Sherlock's legs, kissing him harder as their bodies fit together.

Sherlock wrapped his arms around John, squeezing him as they kissed, before letting his hands move up and down John's body.

John was starting to feel very warm and he was losing track of time. "Sherlock . . .I don't know how much time I have," he said, kissing him again.

That wasn't what Sherlock wanted to hear. He shifted so that they were lying next to each other. "I don't know what to do," he said softly before dropping down and kissing John's neck.

John bit his lip and tilted his head back a bit. He didn't know what to say, didn't know what to do. He felt like he wanted everything.

"Do you want to stop? I don't know want to make you late," Sherlock said, continuing to kiss him as his hand roamed over John's chest.

"I don't want to stop," John admitted, swallowing hard. His own hands roamed over Sherlock's sides, tugging his shirt out of his trousers so he could touch Sherlock's skin softly.

Sherlock fiddled with the buttons on John's shirt, opening a few at the top. But then he stopped and reached for his own shirt, slowly unbuttoning it and slipping it from his shoulders. He reached over and grabbed John's hand, holding it as he let it trail over his chest. He wondered if John had ever touched a man like this. Then he realised he'd never been touched like this -- never been touched by someone he loved.

John bit his lip hard as Sherlock guided his hand, but he took over the movement and grazed over his nipples and down to his abs, licking his lips softly.

Sherlock reached over and held John's hip, rocking their bodies lightly. He dropped back down to John's neck, kissing and sucking the skin. "That feels good," he whispered.

John nodded, sliding his hand around Sherlock's side and then up and down his back. "We can take mine off too," he said, using the hand not touching Sherlock to keep opening buttons on his shirt.

Sherlock helped John with his shirt, pulling it away from his body. Then he lay back, pulling John on top of him again. The feel of skin on skin was electrifying. He moved his hands over John's back and then let them move to his hips again, pressing down as he lifted his own hips off the bed.

"Oh," John breathed, feeling Sherlock's cock pressing against his leg. Just like his dream. " I dreamt this," he mumbled, now kissing Sherlock's neck.

That made Sherlock almost explode. "Jesus," he mumbled. "John . . ." He let their bodies rock on the bed. This felt so good.

"We were in my chair," he said without thinking. "And you were in my lap . . ."

"John," Sherlock called again. He knew what was happening -- he was getting close to coming. He gripped John's hips now, moving them both in a steady rhythm. He kissed John's mouth hard, nipping at his bottom lip.

John whimpered softly but moved easily with him, rolling his hips hard into Sherlock's. He shifted a bit so their cocks rubbed against each other. "Yes," he moaned softly.

"John," Sherlock called more loudly than he'd expected, and then he was coming -- his hips jerking up against John and then the warm wetness seeping into the material of his pants. "God," he mumbled as he tried to catch his breath. 

John gasped as he watched Sherlock lost in his orgasm beneath him, being pulling into his own. He closed his eyes and came, shuddering over Sherlock and moaning his name over and over.

Sherlock lay still for a few moments, feeling John's body move as he struggled to keep his breath. All of this felt right. He hoped John knew that as well. 

As John's breathing returned to normal he moved carefully to lay beside Sherlock, worried he was crushing him. "Sherlock," he sighed, just to say his name again. 

"Yes," Sherlock said, a word he hoped would answer any questions that might live in John's hand. He reached over and held onto John's hand.

John squeezed his hand and closed his eyes for a moment. Then he turned on his side and looked at Sherlock. "I . . . that was good," he said.

"It was," Sherlock said, turning his head to look at him. "I knew it would be."

John looked down at their still laced hands. "I have to go soon," he confessed.

Sherlock didn't want to hear that, even though he understood it. "But you'll . . . sort something soon?" he asked.

John nodded. "Yeah, I'd like that," he said. "I can text you."

Sherlock smiled. At the moment, it almost felt perfect, but John's answer meant it soon would be. "I'm glad you came by," he said. He reached over and rested his hand on John's cheek. "I'll show you upstairs next time, okay?"

John smiled softly and wondered if that meant something sexual. He might have to research and see. "I'm glad I came by as well," he said.

Sherlock pushed himself up and then stood. "I guess I'll need to shower before I go back to work," he said, smiling. "You going to be okay?"

John nodded and sat up as well, reaching for his shirt. "I'll wait until you come out before I leave. Is that okay?"

"All right," Sherlock said. "Make yourself at home," he added, before he jumped in the shower.

John slipped his shirt back on and made his way to the kitchen, surprised with the ease he moved around the flat.

Sherlock kept his shower quick, realising too late that he should have brought in a clean pair of pants. Instead he just slipped his trousers on without any. He found John in the kitchen. "Better now," he said. "I've got some research to finish -- we could share a taxi back to your work if you want."

"No, it was too slow for me to stay there anyway and now the day is almost done. I am going home," he said. He felt odd saying 'home' and almost wished he had said 'back' instead.

"Right," Sherlock said. He took back the offer of sharing a taxi -- he could easily find out where John lived, of course it's already crossed his mind to do so, but in truth he didn't want to know and he certainly didn't want to see it.

"I'm sorry," he said, looking around the kitchen awkwardly.

"I -- I know," Sherlock said. "I'll be patient," he added. "Look, let's not stand around awkwardly. Just -- you go now and soon you'll be back."

John smiled and set his mug down. "Okay, you're right," he said. He leaned up and kissed him. "I will see you soon," he said.

Sherlock grabbed John's arm softly to lengthen the kiss. Then he smiled at John. "I'll talk to you soon," he said.

John turned to leave, moving quickly so he wouldn't go back up and stay even longer. Sherlock said that he had work anyway so he needed to go. He turned towards his flat and started walking, calling Jessica to check in with her.

Sherlock had a cup of tea and then went out to do his research. The afternoon was always in his mind, of course, but he tried to stay focused and found what he needed. He got in touch with the client and was pleased to have another solved case, even if it had been an easy one. He wrote out his notes and filed them away.

John picked up dinner on his way home and they sat at the table together, his mind wandering to the afternoon. He had changed as soon as he got home, once again putting the clothes straight into the washing machine with other things on top of it. He really couldn't risk Jessica finding them. She reminded him to call movers the next day and he nodded, hardly listening. He heard movers and had an image of him moving into Sherlock's place. Jessica fumbling with the dishes pulled him out of his thoughts.

Sherlock laid around on the sofa, flipping through channels, trying to read, and then admitting defeat and getting up and going to bed. When he lay down, he remembered what had happened there earlier. It had felt so good and even just thinking about it felt good. Soon, John would be here and everything would be as the universe intended.


	8. Upstairs

Two days later, after they had also painted the spare bedroom, John was running out of reasons to postpone the movers. He couldn't explain why to her, because he wasn't even sure he could explain it to himself. He didn't want to hurt anyone, including Jessica, but he couldn't go forward with this move until he knew it was right.

A few days later, Jessica came into the kitchen to have breakfast with him, informing him that she had taken care of it. Her tone made it seem like she knew John had been purposely putting it off. This weekend some of her family was coming to visit and then the move would happen next week. Unless John did something to stop it.  
  
He still didn't know what to do. He had been looking up information on having sex with a man, already admitting to himself that that's where this was going to end up with Sherlock. He wanted to be as ready as he could be. Maybe it was just a phase -- a curiosity -- and maybe once it happened, John would know he preferred women and things would be all right with Jessica. 

On Friday, he texted Jessica to let her know that he would be late, because he'd be catching a drink with a friend. Then he texted Sherlock.  
  
_Can I come see you? -JW_

Sherlock had spent their time apart working on something for his brother. It was tedious and unrewarding, but it kept him busy. Fortunately, he even avoided seeing Mycroft, which would have dampened his mood

He was enjoying a cup of tea at his desk when the text from John came through. He was eager and wondered if this time John would be able to stay longer, if not forever.

_Of course. SH_

John smiled and left the office, heading for Sherlock's. He stopped and picked up a bottle of wine, hoping that would be okay. He knocked on the door and tried to hold the bottle in a way that wasn't too obvious.

Sherlock opened the door. "I'm glad you're here," he said, a bit nervously. He led John up to the flat, not sure if he should touch or kiss him, even though he wanted to do both.

"I brought wine," he said, holding up the bottle. Technically then he wasn't lying to Jessica -- he was having a drink with a friend.

"Thanks," Sherlock said, as he moved to the kitchen and pulled out two glasses. He opened the wine, carrying it and the glasses back to the sitting room. He poured it and handed a glass to John. "I've missed seeing you," he admitted before taking a sip.

"Me too, it's been a busy week," he said, taking a sip.

Sherlock asked John about how work was going and then explained a little bit about the work he'd done for his brother. Eventually, he asked, "So things at home . . . you're making progress?"

"Yeah, it's a bit slow going but that's me just dragging my feet," he said.

Sherlock swallowed another sip of wine. "I'm sorry it's hard . . ." he said. He sat up a little in his chair. Had John changed his mind about them? "Is that why you've come over here? Do you want this . . . to stop?"

"What?' John asked, looking over at him quickly. "No! Do you?"

"Of course not," Sherlock said. "I'm glad you still feel the same. It's just difficult . . . not knowing precisely what's going on. I just wish I could help . . ." He stood up and moved over to John's chair. "Come on, let's go upstairs . . . maybe that'll make us both feel better."

John flushed when Sherlock moved closer to him. But then Sherlock was offering his hand so he took it and followed him to the stairs.

Sherlock smiled as they walked upstairs. Before he opened the door, he turned to John and gave him a quick kiss. "There," he said. "That's better." He opened the door and stepped in, looking around a little. He moved over to the bed and sat down.

John looked around and smiled. "This room is nice too," he said. He moved closer to Sherlock but this time sat beside him, leaning over to kiss him.

"I'm glad you like it," Sherlock said, turning his body and then pushing John back, quickly climbing on top of him. He looked down at his face. "I just want you to feel comfortable here," he said as he slowly moved a hand down John's chest to his waistband. "With everything," he added. "Are you?"

John licked his lips and nodded. "Yes," he said. He lifted his hips a bit to try to feel his hand more, his own coming up to start opening Sherlock's shirt.

"Good," Sherlock said. He started to unbutton John's trousers. "We belong together, John," he said as he slipped his hand inside to hold his cock. It was soft but warm in Sherlock's hand. He leaned down and kissed John's mouth hard. 

John moaned softly and kissed back matching his urgency, unable to reply. Together. He really did feel so good with Sherlock. His hands fumbled to move faster, wanting to touch Sherlock as well.

Sherlock had already started to move down John's body, though, kissing his chin and then neck and then moved lower, opening his trousers and pulling out his cock, which was hard now. He kissed it lightly and sucked it into his mouth.

There was a brief moment when Sherlock moved when John knew exactly what was coming. And yet when he felt Sherlock's mouth on him he gasped and gripped his own hair. "Fucking hell," he moaned, his other hand gripping Sherlock's hair.

Sherlock moved his mouth over John, licking and sucking, tasting and memorising the taste. He held him at the base and let his other hand move back up John's body to hold onto his hand. He looked up quickly and saw the pleasure on John's face. It made him feel good, all of this made him feel good.

John closed his eyes and bit his lip, squirming under Sherlock as he tried to keep still. He was good at this and it felt amazing, but a small part of his brain was trying to focus. "Sherlock . . . God," he moaned softly, squeezing his hand.

Sherlock swallowed him down again, moving up and down his length. He sensed changes in John's body, remembering the last time they were together. He wanted to watch John first this time, see him let go because of what Sherlock was doing.

John felt the heat building, pleasure coiling in his belly and groin as he focused on Sherlock's movement. He moaned softly, lifting his head to look down. And then he was coming, gripping Sherlock's hand and moaning his name.

Sherlock slid his body up to lie beside him, wrapping an arm around John. "Now you'll always have something nice to think about in this room," he said.

"I want to do you," John said, shifting to get on top of him without even fixing his clothes.

"Wait," Sherlock said, pushing him back a little so they were lying face to face. He reached and pushed down his trousers, wiggling to pull them all the way off. "I want to kiss," he said, grabbing John's hand and moving it down to his own hard cock. He leaned in and kissed John. "Slow at first," he whispered and then kissed him again.

"Slow," John nodded, kissing Sherlock and stroking him steadily. He looked down, huffing a soft breath at the sight before kissing him again a bit harder.

Sherlock closed his eyes, losing himself in the kisses and touches. He let his hips rock with John's movement. The smell and taste of John was recognisable to him now. It felt safe, comforting, like home. He hadn't understood it when they first met -- he'd made his decisions on trust, not understanding -- but now he knew. He did love John. John was good and it was only John who could make Sherlock feel this good. He opened his eyes and looked at John for a moment, wondering if John loved him back. He kissed him again and felt his body beginning to tense. "I'm close," he exhaled before kissing him again.

"I want to use my mouth . . . like you did," John said, slowing his hand and starting to move down his body.

"Hurry," Sherlock mumbled, moving his hand to keep stroking himself.

John bit his lip and moved even lower, trying to remember what he'd seen and read. He sucked the head first, trying to get a feel for the taste before sucking lower, bobbing his head up and down and stroking what he couldn't fit.

"God," Sherlock called loudly. "John . . . it's so good," he moaned, dropping his hand to hold John's shoulder. "Please. . . "

John tried to take more, soft noises escaping as he moved.

Sherlock closed his eyes and swallowed roughly. Then he felt his whole body change and he moaned, "John, I'm going to come."

John merely hummed around Sherlock, not moving away. Sherlock hadn't and he wanted this to be the best.

Sherlock opened his mouth but no sound came out. Then he was coming, gripping John's shoulder as his orgasm passed through his body.

John moved back a bit in surprise but he didn't pull away, swallowing around the head as he stroked Sherlock through it.

Sherlock pulled on John's body, moving him up and kissing his mouth softly. "God," he said. "That was incredible."

"Don't lie," John teased, kissing him again.

Sherlock looked at him closely. "Is that the first time you've done that?" he asked.

John licked his lips and nodded. "I read some things," he admitted.

"Promise me it won't be the last, okay?" Sherlock said smiling. There was something so wonderful about sharing all of this here, in what he hoped would soon be John's bed.

John smiled in relief and nodded. "I promise," he said, lying beside him.

"I'd like it if you could sleep here," Sherlock said, sliding his arm around John.

John curled into him and took a deep breath. "I-I can stay late but not all night."

"I know," Sherlock said. "Come on, let's get in the bed and pretend it's real." He pulled back the covers and slipped under them, taking off the rest of his clothes. "We won't go to sleep so you don't have to worry. Let's just see what it'll be like."

John properly slipped out of his own clothes and then wrapped an arm around Sherlock's waist, bringing their bodies together as his head rest on Sherlock's chest. "This is nice," he admitted.

"It is," Sherlock said. He took a deep breath and rested his chin on John's head. "I've never had or wanted with this anyone," he said softly. "I know you can't say the same, I don't expect you to. But I still felt the need to tell you."

John bent his arm to hug Sherlock a little tighter. He couldn't say the same exactly, but in truth, cuddling with Sherlock like this felt better than anything he'd done with Jessica in the last year. He hardly understood it and yet he felt it now. He didn't mention it, not wanting to say her name in this moment. "This feels good," he said instead. 

They lay quietly for a little while. Sherlock tried to pretend it was real -- this was John's bed in John's room in the flat. Tonight they'd sleep here, tomorrow maybe in his. It just seemed so normal and right. Because it was. He hated everyone and everything in the world, in John's life, who didn't agree that this is how it should things should be. 

After a while, Sherlock said, "Should we get up, John?"

John nodded. He pressed a small kiss to Sherlock's chest before shifting to get up, reaching for his clothes slowly. 

"Let's have a cup of tea before you go," Sherlock said, once he was dressed. "I'm glad you like it up here," he added as he headed for the door.

John looked up at him as he attempted to make the bed a bit, realizing that 'show you upstairs' was really just that. John smiled and followed him back downstairs to have a mug of tea. 

Sherlock brought the tea into the sitting room. "You look handsome in that chair," he said as he handed John his.

"Maybe I should carry it around with me then," John teased. He sipped on the tea and imagined the fire going on cold nights. It was cozy here. It was nice. 

"No," Sherlock said. "I just like thinking of you sitting in it here." He looked around the room a bit, wondering what John would want to move in and if there'd be space. "Maybe I'll have a case soon -- you still interested in helping?" he asked.

John nodded. "Yes, I am. They are so interesting, and it's great watching you work. You know, not in a weird way. I might start writing about them," he said. 

"Maybe that could get me more business," Sherlock said. "And then you could work here as well." He smiled. "But let's not get ahead of ourselves. You have things elsewhere you need to take care of first." He smiled and took another sip of tea.

"I know," he said, nodding and sipping more tea. "But I can still write about the cases."

"All right," Sherlock said. "Should I send you some notes from previous cases so you can get a feel for things?"

John nodded. "Just the ones I've worked on to start with."

"Will do," Sherlock said. He glanced at his watch. "I suppose you have to go, right?"

John nodded. "I do. But I want to see you again soon."

"I want that too, John," Sherlock said. "I hope you know you're always welcome here, which is not something I'd say to any other person on this planet." He smiled and stood up.

John smiled and looked around the room again before nodding. "Thanks, Sherlock. I will see you soon, okay?" He hated having to leave after sex, but he knew that was the arrangement since he was with Jessica still. He kissed Sherlock again and headed for his own flat. It was dark out now, and he called Jessica to see if she had eaten and if she wanted anything while he was out. 

"I went to the shop already. I saw Mike there." 

John stopped walking. What had he told her -- had he said Mike or had he just said friend?

"Weren't you going to get a drink with Mike? Or was this your new friend?"

John almost sighed in relief when she practically gave him the answer. "My new friend. I didn't feel right about him getting dinner last time with me just having looked at a body so I got drinks this time."

There was a long silence. "Okay. I've made dinner, if you're hungry. I am going to bed."

They hung up and John still stood in the middle of the pavement, staring down at the phone. That had been close. He needed to be careful about how he worded things to her from now on. 


	9. Everything Explodes

In the morning, Sherlock then made some tea while he checked his email. He was pleased to see one from his blog, but when he read it over, it seemed quite boring -- a cheating spouse. He flagged it but didn't immediately respond, hoping that Lestrade might have something more interesting for him. Especially if it involved a body and he'd have an excuse to bring John in.

He showered before making the call to Lestrade, who unfortunately had nothing. He was about to go back to his computer when Mrs Hudson knocked on the door. He let her in and put the kettle back on.

"You're smiling," she said as she sat down.

"Am I?" he said, bringing the tea over. "I suppose I must be in a good mood."

"Interesting," she said. "A case?"  
  
"No," he said. "Why? Have you got a case for me? I need something interesting to work on."

She laughed a little. "I've not got any cases, Sherlock, don't be daft," she said and took a sip of tea. "So what's put you in a good mood then?"  
  
"John Watson," he said, as it was the most obvious thing in the world.

"I see," she said. "So that's still happening?"  
  
"Of course," he said. "Everything's going well. I think he feels the same."

"You think?"

"I mean, I know -- there's evidence. You know I don't make claims without evidence."  
  
"You said you loved him before you'd even spoken to him!"

"I had spoken to him," Sherlock clarified. "Besides, there was evidence then . . .feelings, I mean. But anyway, now I've got more. I do love him. I know now. And it seems he feels similarly."

"Sherlock," she said softly. "Your language . . . 'I think', 'it seems' . . . are things not going precisely to plan?"

"There was no plan -- everything's fine," he said a little too sharply. "It's just . . ." He swallowed, not entirely sure if he should say. "It's just . . . he's in a relationship with someone else at the moment. But it doesn't matter. He's ending it."  
  
"Sherlock," Mrs Hudson said, her voice even softer. "Are you sure you want to break up a relationship?"

"I'm not breaking up anything," he said defensively. "He wants to be with me, we're meant to be together . . . he's with the wrong one. That's it."

They sat quietly for a few moments.

"Okay," she said, setting her cup down and standing up. "Okay." She tapped his arm as she walked by and headed towards the door.

Sherlock didn't say anything. He looked over at John's chair. He got up and moved into the bedroom, pulling the curtains, before lying down on the bed. He didn't want to think about any of this for a little while.

When Sherlock woke up, his conversation with Mrs Hudson was still in his head. He did his best to ignore it. Things would work out. He could read people, he could read John and this is what John wanted. To distract himself, he got back on the computer. There were no new cases, so he wrote back to the woman from earlier. Her email had said they were having family this weekend, so Sherlock set up an appointment for Monday, hoping something more interesting would come up before then.

_____________________________________

John went to work the next morning, leaving things tense at the flat. Jessica wasn't angry but there was something off about the air between them that John couldn't place. He couldn't tell if she was suspicious or if he was just paranoid. Of course, it was hard to focus because he was too busy thinking about Sherlock and how well things were going over there. His mind kept replaying the kissing and the touching, but also the tea and the chairs and the cases and the laughs and the teasing and the smiling . . . He really needed to sort these thoughts before they took over his life.

On Wednesday night as John was trying to sleep, he finally realised the truth. He was falling in love with Sherlock. That was the only thing that would explain what was going on in his head. His days with Jessica were tense and a bit awkward, as if she could read the thoughts in his head. They were all about Sherlock. John was always trying to think about ways to see him, trying to figure out how this was going to work out. He wasn't stupid -- he knew he couldn't be with both of them forever. But he didn't know how to tell Jessica the truth without hurting her.

_____________________________________

Sherlock kept himself busy for the next few days. Nothing new had come up work-wise, and while he wouldn't admit it, he was trying to avoid speaking to Mrs Hudson. Soon he was sure everything would be fine and he could show her that he'd been right.

However, by the end of the week, he was struggling a bit, worried that perhaps things weren't fine. He hadn't heard anything from John at all -- a quick reply to the notes he'd sent, but that was it. He was lying on the sofa, looking at his phone -- reading previous texts and looking at John's picture. Finally, he sent a text.

_I hope everything is okay. SH_

John was finishing up his last patient when he saw the text.  
  
_I'm sorry it's been a while. I've been so busy this week. How are you? -JW_

_As I always am. I'd like to see you. SH_

_Can I come see you after work? -JW_

_Yes, please. SH_

_See you soon. -JW_  
  
He packed up his things and headed out the door, texting Jessica that he was going to be at work late. She didn't answer back. He got into a cab and headed to Sherlock's, knocking frantically.

Sherlock opened the door and this time he pulled John into his arms. "I missed you," he said softly.

John hugged him tightly and nodded. "I missed you too -- it's so good to see you," he said. He leaned back so he could kiss Sherlock.

Sherlock kissed John softly. "I know you probably can't stay long, but can we go into my room and talk? I just want to be close to you," he said, already pulling him along.

"I can stay for a bit," he said, shutting the door behind him and following Sherlock into his room.

Sherlock sat down on the bed. "Good," he said, reaching out for John's hand. He lifted it to his mouth and covered John's fingers with kisses.

John bit his lip as he watched. "Sherlock, I can't stop about you," he murmured as he moved closer.

"Because we belong together," Sherlock said, looking over before leaning in and kissing John's mouth.

They belonged together. John kissed him back hungrily, bringing a hand up to bury into his curls. His body was already warm. He wanted Sherlock desperately, not just now, but in every way. Sherlock's words made him believe that was actually possible.

Sherlock leaned into John, pushing them both back onto the mattress. He covered John's face with kisses before dropping down to suck the skin on his neck. "God," he moaned. "I love every taste of you."

John moaned softly and started pulling at Sherlock's clothes. "You make me crazy," he sighed, shifting to catch his mouth in a kiss again. He couldn't get enough.

"No, I don't," Sherlock said. "I make you right . . . just like you make me." He gripped John's hip as he continued to kiss him.

John moved to kiss along his jaw, going down to his neck and sucking on the skin, biting softly to leave a mark.

Sherlock ran his hands up and down John's back. He began to rock his hips lightly. "You feel so good . . ." he mumbled.

John rolled his hips and moaned when he felt Sherlock so hard. "Can we do more?" he asked, kissing up again to find his mouth.

"We can do whatever you want," Sherlock said.

"I've imagined so much," John admitted, kissing down to the other side of his neck. He wanted to kiss him everywhere, to taste everything.

"We can do anything," Sherlock said. "Everything."

John came up to kiss his mouth again. "I've never done this . . . not like this," he said.

"It's okay," Sherlock said. He kissed him and then started to unbutton his shirt. "Take your clothes off," he said.

John sat up, straddling his hips, and moving slowly to get out of all of his clothes. His face felt warm as he did so he focused on Sherlock.

Sherlock pulled off his own shirt as he watched John. Then he let his hands caress John's chest. "You're so . . ." he started to say, and then stopped, just watching John, before reaching down to pull of his own trousers.

John flushed and bit his lip. "So what?" he asked, knowing he had the scar on his shoulder and several smaller ones scattered across his torso. He slid next to Sherlock's legs while he took off his trousers, pausing in the process of removing his own.

"So perfect," Sherlock said. "You're John Watson and you're everything." He grabbed one of John's hands and kissed it again before moving it down to his cock. "Touch me here," he said.

John flushed even darker and leaned in to kiss him. His hand moved easily on Sherlock, stroking up and down as he pulled back to watch Sherlock's face.

Sherlock closed his eyes for a moment, just letting the pleasure fill him. Then he opened them again and reached over to stroke John. He watched John's face and then leaned up to kiss him. "This is good," he mumbled stupidly.

John nodded, licking his own lips lightly. "I did research," he admitted stupidly, glancing down at their hands.

Sherlock smiled. "You'll know what to do," he said. "What we need is in the top drawer," he added, nodding towards the bedside cabinet.

John moved and opened the drawer, taking out the bottle of lube and the box of condoms. He pulled one out and put the box back, moving between Sherlock's legs. He leaned down and kissed him again.

Sherlock shifted himself, separating his legs. He stroked himself slowly as he watched John.

John poured a bit of the lube on his fingers and reached out, just rubbing over everything for a bit before pushing one finger inside slowly. His eyes flew up to Sherlock's face, looking for any sign of discomfort.

"Just go slow," Sherlock said. He moved his body against John's finger. He made a small moan. "That's good . .."

John moved slowly like Sherlock asked, gently easing in a second one as he leaned down to nuzzle against his cock. He licked out, all the way to the head which he sucked lightly.

"Fuck," Sherlock exhaled. "That feels good, John."

"You're so sexy," John said, continuing to stretch him.

Sherlock made another small moan. "I need you, John," he mumbled. "Please." He started to stroke himself more steadily.

"Me too," John said, pulling his fingers away gently. He had a bit of trouble tearing the condom, but he finally got it on and lined up. He leaned down to kiss Sherlock again before slowly pushing inside.

Sherlock did his best to relax his body into John's movement. It'd been a long time since he had this feeling, but it had never meant so much. "It's good, John," he said softly. "Move slowly now." He reached up an arm to pull John closer to him.

John did, his hips moving in a slow steady pace back and forth. "God," he moaned as he moved.

Sherlock looked up at John. "Tell me you like it," he said. "Tell me it feels good to you."

"Fuck," John breathed. "It does, Sherlock . . . it -- you feel so good," he moaned, moving a bit faster now.

"We can have this . . . always," Sherlock said. He closed his eyes again and slipped his hand between their bodies to stroke himself again.

"I want to," John murmured, kissing him quickly before lifting up so Sherlock's hand had more room.

"John, I can't . . . last much longer," Sherlock panted. "I'm sorry . . ." And then he was coming between their bodies, letting his head fall back against the bed, feeling his body still moving with each of John's thrusts.

John watched Sherlock letting go into pleasure. He followed soon after, shuddering over Sherlock and moaning his name over and over. 

Sherlock pulled John down to him. "John," he whispered as he tried to catch his breath. "I knew it . . . I knew you were the one." He wrapped his arms around him.

Sherlock's words with the coming down of his own intense pleasure finally pulled the words from his mouth that he was thinking so much lately. "I love you, Sherlock . . ."

"I love you, too, John," Sherlock said.

John caught his breath before shifting gently, pulling out of Sherlock and lying down beside him. 

Sherlock moved his arm around John's back and lay there quietly for a little bit. It didn't seem right that John had to leave. It didn't seem right that he wasn't going to stay forever.

John lay tucked close to him, his fingers rubbing lightly up and down on Sherlock's chest. "Did you solve your case?" he asked after a long while. 

"I was just working on something for my brother that day," Sherlock said. "I've not had much since then. I did get one yesterday -- maybe you could help with that?"

"I would like that," John said. "But not over the weekend," he added quickly. "We've got family coming in."

"The client's coming Monday so that'll work," Sherlock said. He was starting to feel sleepy and wished that John could stay the night. He closed his eyes and then suddenly opened them. "You have family coming this weekend?" he asked.

"Yeah. Hers," John said, still not wanting to say her name around Sherlock, especially when they were in bed together. 

Sherlock sat up a little on the bed. "Is your girlfriend called Jessica?" he asked.

John's heart skipped and fell into his stomach as he sat up a bit and looked at Sherlock. "I -- have I told you before?" he asked. "That's her name."

"John," Sherlock said. "I thought you were . . . " He swallowed awkwardly before continuing. "I don't just want this, John -- I want everything. I don't want you to be with her, to live with her . . . I want you to be with me, live here with me." He was trying to make sense of things in his mind: wasn't John trying to end that relationship so they could be together?

"I would like that too," John said, sitting up properly now. That would be amazing, but what was he supposed to tell Jessica? "It's just . . . complicated," he added feebly.

"I've understood that . . . I've tried to be patient which is something I'm not very good at," Sherlock said. "But I was under the impression that you were . . . I don't know, working on it. But you've not said anything to her, have you?"

"Where is this coming from all of a sudden?" John asked defensively. What had Sherlock expected -- him to just blurt it out to her? He would need time to sort it all out.

But . . . now that Sherlock was asking, he hadn't really done anything at all. He'd been trying not to hurt anyone, but he saw now that doing nothing wasn't the right thing for anyone. What was he waiting for? He didn't know. He had spent a lot of his time trying not to think about all of that. 

Sherlock reached for his clothes and started to get dressed. "She emailed me -- I mean she emailed me as a client. She's worried about her boyfriend . . . she has no idea what's going on."

John's stomach fell even lower, his body cold. "Sherlock . . .I --" He didn't know what to say. He imagined the email, Jessica typing out how he was suddenly working late, meeting his friend for drinks, dragging his feet about the move -- he had fallen right into a totally stereotypical pattern. He could hardly breathe for a moment. "Did you tell her? What did you tell her?" he asked. 

"I've not told her anything, I've not met with her," Sherlock said. "When I set up the appointment, I didn't know who she was . . ." He looked over at him. "What are you going to do?"

John sat there in silence, trying to think. He knew he couldn't have both of them, it wasn't fair to anyone. But he had spent so much time trying to avoid thinking about this exact thing, that he didn't know what to say now. "I…I don't know," he said, rubbing his face hard. 

"She obviously knows something is wrong or she wouldn't have contacted a detective," Sherlock said. He sat silently for a moment. "We could stop, John . . . we could end this and you could go back to normal and be with her . . ."

John's gut twisted and he shook his head. "No, I don't want that. I know I don't want that." He took a deep breath. "I just -- how do I tell her?" he asked. "I don't know what to tell her."

"I don't know . . ." Sherlock said. "Could you . . . tell her the truth? That you don't want to be with her anymore -- I mean, if that's the truth?"

"Of course I could," he sighed. He thought about the weekend coming up. He'd have to get through the family visit -- he could do that for her -- and then they could talk afterwards. "Are you going to meet with her on Monday?"

"What do you want me to do, John?"

"I will talk to her Sunday night after her family leaves," John said. "I will. I will end it so we can be together properly."

Sherlock sat quietly for a few moments. "Maybe we can find someone who could sublet the new flat?" he said. "I know that's not the only complication, but maybe that could take care of one worry."

"She can stay in our old flat, if she wants to," John said. "It might take a little bit to sort it all out, but I will. Not like before. I will do it."

Sherlock looked over at John. "Will you live here then?"

John flushed, realising he had assumed and never actually asked. "Could I?"

"Obviously," Sherlock said. "That's why I showed you the room upstairs, so it could be yours."

"Oh," John said stupidly. "Then . . . then yes," he nodded.

"Good," Sherlock said. "This is . . . horrible, isn't it, John? I'm sorry . . ."

"Don't be sorry," John said. "I'm sorry I misunderstood so horribly."

Sherlock turned his body towards John. "What did you misunderstand?" he asked.

"What you were asking of me and what I was feeling," John said.

"I could have been clearer," Sherlock said. "I know it's all . . . unusual. But I knew. From the first moment.

"I'm sorry it took me longer," John said, reaching over to hold his hand. "I'm going to fix it, okay?"

"Tell me if I can help . . . I'll do whatever I can, even if it's just leave it to you," Sherlock said. "I trust you." He did. Maybe he shouldn't, but he did and Sherlock Holmes put his trust in so few people -- there must be a reason he felt this way about John.

"I will handle it," John promised.

"Will we be okay?" Sherlock asked softly.

John squeezed his hand. "I love you, Sherlock."

"I love you, too, John," Sherlock said.

"So we will be okay," John smiled softly.


	10. The Truth Is Out

John found it difficult to go home after his talk with Sherlock. He was worried he would see Jessica and tell her what he knew right away, worried that she would see something on his face that would give it away. He didn't want to hurt her -- he hadn't ever wanted to hurt her but he realised now that what he was doing was only making it worse for everyone.

Her family came the next day. Jessica and John both seemed to understand how important it was to get through the weekend, to get through the visit without alerting anyone that things weren't all right. It seemed clear the both knew that as soon as the family was gone, they'd have a talk and everything would change. They held hands and they kissed when needed, and they smiled and laughed, but at night they lay on opposite sides of the bed.

On Sunday they spent the day out. As they did John wondered if they would happen across Sherlock, but they didn't. After dinner, John and Jessica made sure they got to the train station on time and then headed back to the flat.

When they got in, Jessica started. "Are you seeing another woman?" she asked.

John swallowed hard and moved to sit down across from her. "Not exactly," he said. She looked at him with narrowed eyes. "I have met someone . . ."

Jessica's brows furrowed lightly. "Someone?"

"I don't know how to explain properly but . . . but I met a man."

"You -- you're cheating on me with a man?" she whispered.

John looked down at his mug. "I don't know how it happened. I wasn't looking for anything -- I wasn't expecting anything like this -- and all of a sudden it was happening and I should have said something earlier . . . I'm sorry."

"But we were supposed to be working on things . . . I thought the new flat was supposed to help . . ."

"We just . . . it shouldn't take a new flat to keep us together," he said softly, pausing and rubbing his face hard. "I fell in love with him . . ."

Everything fell apart after that. Nothing could change what had happened but John let Jessica shout and question and shout again. They both cried but nothing could change what had happened.

_____________________________________

 Sherlock spent the weekend mostly feeling sick to his stomach. He did not like being out of control, and he was entirely out of control over what was happening with John and Jessica. He didn't contact John in any way -- in fact he tried to not even look at his phone, understanding why he wouldn't be hearing from John but not wanting to even get his hopes up a little.

However, he did sit down and write a reply to his newest potential client.

_Dear Jessica,_  
_I will be unable to keep our appointment for Monday. If you are still in need of a detective, I suggest you find another who is more suitable for you._  
 _However, I would like to offer a comment on your case. Relationships change, because people change; that is the nature of the world and something no one can escape. If your relationship has changed, this means you and your partner have changed. You do not need a detective to solve that mystery._  
 _Nor do you need a detective to find out how you and your partner have changed. Because this should be something about which you are both aware. If your partner has not been forthcoming about changes -- or if you yourself have not been -- perhaps the change in your relationship is actually for the better. Without honesty and trust, relationships are doomed anyway._  
 _SH_

He didn't send the email. He assumed she would cancel or just not show once she'd spoken to John. If John told her the truth this weekend. And if what John had told Sherlock on Friday was also the truth. Instead he read over the email and thought about what it meant to his own relationship with John. The universe might have destined John and Sherlock to be together, but without honesty and truth, that relationship too was doomed.

_____________________________________

When everything had been shouted, John packed a bag and left. He took a taxi to Bake Street. He stood outside of Sherlock's for a while, looking up at the flat. He had just ruined his long time relationship for a man who in many ways was practically a stranger. He was feeling a bit anxious about that now, wondering if maybe he had made a huge mistake. But no -- being with Sherlock had felt right in a way that being with anyone else, even Jessica, never had. He crossed the street and knocked hard on the door.

Sherlock sat up at the knock. He stood up and looked around the flat. This was it. He hoped that when he walked back into the flat, John would live here, too, but he knew that there was also a chance that John had come to say goodbye. He walked downstairs to the door.

John shifted anxiously, knowing that if Sherlock didn't answer he wouldn't have anywhere to go. He moved his bag to his other hand, trying not to faint from nerves.

Sherlock opened the door. He saw John's bag. "Come in," he said. "You're home." He held out his arm to pull John into a hug.

John dropped the bag and hugged him tightly, burying into his chest and just breathing him in. "Yes," he exhaled.

Sherlock held him for a few moments and then picked up his bag, leading him upstairs. He set the bag down and quickly moved to the kitchen to put on the kettle. "Tell me whatever you want to tell me, but . . . are you all right?" he asked.

"I'm okay. It was hard . . . but it's done now," he said.

"Are . . . we still okay?" Sherlock asked as he brought in the tea.

John nodded. "Why wouldn't we be?"

"You know why," Sherlock said. "Because this is big and we're . . . new."

"Are you regretting it?" John asked softly.

"No, not at all," Sherlock said. "I've known from the first day." He took sip of tea. "But I've turned your life upside down and I don't want you to regret it."

"I'm nervous because I've never done anything impulsive like this before. But when I'm with you I feel something I've never felt before and I have to trust it," John confessed.

Sherlock looked over at him. "Trust it, John," he said seriously. "I trust my feelings and I'm rarely wrong. You have to trust yours. If we promise to always do that . . . and to be honest, then we know we can trust each other."

John nodded, sipping at his tea. "Was I the one, then? When you said you already found the right one?"

"Yes," Sherlock said. "You are the one."

"How did you know?" he asked.

"Because when I looked at you, everything changed," Sherlock said. "I'm sure that seems a bit vague, but you have to understand how my mind works. I know things -- there's a logic to things that I can see -- and when someone comes into my life who changes it, that person is the one."

"Do you think there will be another one?" John asked.

"It's not called the one because there's two, John," Sherlock said, smiling a little. "I don't think there will be." He looked over. "I'm not a teenager, John. I have never loved anyone in my entire life. Until you. I feel relatively convinced you are the only one."

"I don't know how you can be sure," John said.

"Listen to me," Sherlock said. "I'm not always good at talking about feelings -- well, I'm never good at it actually, as you've learned by my lack of clarity -- but I will do it because . . . otherwise this is doomed." He couldn't help but think of his unsent email to Jessica. "You have to talk to me too. We have to talk, John. Promise?"

"I promise, Sherlock. I do," he nodded.

"I take my promises very seriously," Sherlock said. "Do you?"

"Very much," he nodded.

"Shall we shake on it then?" Sherlock asked.

"Let's kiss on it instead," John smiled.

Sherlock stood up and moved over to John. He leaned down and put a soft kiss on his mouth. "Deal?" he said.

John leaned up and kissed him again. "Deal."

"That said," Sherlock added, reaching down to grab John's hand and pull him up from the chair. "I feel I should give you a proper tour of the flat and we can set down some ground rules." He held onto his hand as they walked towards John's room.

"Ground rules?" John asked, raising his brows as he followed Sherlock. 

"Yes," Sherlock said, pushing open the door to John's room. "For example, this is your room. You can sleep in here or in mine, which I hope sometimes you'll do. But since this is your room, you can do whatever you want in it. I'll only come in if invited. I hope we won't have secrets, but it is all right sometimes to have privacy if that's what we need at the moment."

"Okay," John nodded. "This makes sense," he said as he looked around the room. "What's the next rule?"

Sherlock headed back downstairs. "I've misled you slightly as I've tried to tidy a bit before you've come over," he said. "I'm not particularly tidy -- I'm not particularly messy, it's just that I put things where I need them which may not be precisely where you'd like them. If you'd like to tidy, you can but this may be something we need to talk about so that I can still have my things where I need them without making you insane."

"I don't mind. I'm pretty easy going," John shrugged.

"Yes, and that's another thing we should probably talk about. I had a feeling you'd claim to be 'easy going'," Sherlock said. "I'm not 'easy going,' John. I'm the opposite of easy going. If this becomes a problem, we should talk about it. Or consider taking advantage of the privacy of our rooms. I am who I am. I want you to be who you are. We can't pretend we don't have differences, but I don't want them to ruin things."

"Honesty," John nodded. "I can do that." He smiled up at Sherlock and tapped his arm. "No matter what."

"Good," Sherlock said. "Also, I occasionally keep body parts in the fridge," he added quickly and then said, "That's all I can think of for now. Do you have anything you'd like to suggest?"

"Body parts?" John asked, raising his brows. "Hmm. Well, I have nightmares sometimes. And I like eating. And having company but I can respect needing alone time."

"Eating . . ." Sherlock said skeptically. "I'm less enamoured with eating. Do you think you'll nag me about that?"

"Yes," John said easily. "But I'll try to take it easy."

"So," Sherlock said. "You live here now." He smiled over at him.

"I live here," John said, smiling wide at Sherlock.

"And what would you like to do now?" Sherlock asked.

John turned to face Sherlock and touched his face lightly. He felt awful about Jessica, about how things had ended. But here, in Sherlock's presence, the good feelings were all that mattered. "I missed you," he said.

"I missed you too," Sherlock said. "And now we've found each other." He slipped his arms around John and pulled him close.

John leaned up and kissed his mouth, sliding his hands back to his hair.

"Will you sleep with me tonight?" Sherlock asked after the kiss. "I mean, properly sleep?"

John nodded, realising suddenly that they had never actually done that. "Yes, I would like that," he said softly. 

"Good," Sherlock said. "Are you hungry? Do you want to watch some telly? What do you want to do?"

"Um, we can watch some telly for a bit. I'm not hungry just now."

"All right, let me make more tea," Sherlock said. When he returned, he grabbed the remote but before handing it to John, he said, "I hope you're okay with everything -- I know this probably hasn't been the best weekend of your life, but I hope you're okay."

John smiled softly. "Thank you, Sherlock." He took the mug and sipped lightly. "I'll be okay. I promise."

"If you're not, talk to me or at least let me know, okay? I'm not always good at picking up signs, but I don't want you to feel bad and me not know," Sherlock said. He reached over and touched John's leg.

John glanced at his hand and moved a bit closer to him. "I will, Sherlock. Even if you don't believe it, you make me feel a lot better."

Sherlock smiled and snuggled in against John. He turned his head to the television even though he had absolutely no interest in it whatsoever.

"This is really nice," John said softly.

Sherlock smiled. It was nice. Being with John here in what was now their flat. It was nice in a way Sherlock never thought he'd want things to be nice, but he did now because of John.

John finally felt relaxed. There was something calming about being here, about being with Sherlock like this. Maybe it was because they were meant to be, like Sherlock thought. John didn't know if he believed that -- he never had before -- and yet he couldn't explain what this was.


	11. The Universe Was Right

After a while Sherlock said, "I know it's early, but let's go to bed, yeah?"

"Yeah," John agreed, shifting to untangle from Sherlock and stand up.

"You can unpack in the morning, but feel free to put your bathroom stuff wherever you want," Sherlock said. "I'm not too fussy. You can get ready first." He carried the mugs to the kitchen sink to wash them up.

John took his toiletries with him, brushing his teeth and ruffling his hair a bit before going to Sherlock's room. He had pajamas somewhere in his bag, but he didn't want to dig through it now. Leaving his undershirt on, he stripped to his boxer briefs and sat on the edge of the bed, not wanting to pull the covers back without Sherlock.

Sherlock went into the bathroom after John. He saw some of John's things on the shelf and smiled. When he was finished he went into his room. "What are you doing?" he asked, starting to take off his clothes. "Don't you want to sleep in here?"

"Yes," he said quickly, standing up again.

"You were sitting on the bed," Sherlock said. "Is that how you sleep?" he added. "Normally I actually get into the bed to sleep, but you know, do whatever you want." He smiled as he pulled back the covers and climbed in.

John pulled the covers back and got in. "I suppose it'll take some getting used to," he said.

"Let's try it my way tonight and if you don't like it, we can both sit on the edge of the bed tomorrow night," Sherlock said. He made himself comfortable and then turned and looked over at John. He was smiling kind of stupidly. "Well?" he asked.

"Stop! I was just nervous," John laughed softly.

"I guess I'm a bit nervous too," Sherlock said. "It's big, what we've done. But we did it because we belong together, right? So maybe we don't need to be nervous."

John smiled. "Seems logical," he teased.

"Do you want to move a little closer to me?" Sherlock asked, moving his arm out a little.

"Of course," John said, moving and curling into Sherlock's arms. "I can sleep here now."

Sherlock moved his hand slowly on John's back. "Would it be okay if I kissed you?" he asked.

John nodded, looking up so his mouth was closer to Sherlock's. "Yes," he murmured.

Sherlock kissed John softly. He looked down at him. "I love you," he said softly. "Not just because the universe told me to."

John smiled wider. "I love you, too."

Sherlock kissed John again and then snuggled down a bit. Someone else was sleeping in his bed with him and because it was John, it was good. It made Sherlock feel nice in a way he hadn't thought he needed. But he realised he did.

"Let's go to sleep now, okay?" John whispered. "Let's sleep together."

Sherlock nodded and took a deep breath. "Thank you for coming into my life, John Watson," he whispered as he closed his eyes.

John pressed a small kiss on Sherlock's shoulder before drifting off to sleep in his arms.

When Sherlock woke up in the morning, he was still tangled with John. He looked over at his sleeping face. It was so handsome and so familiar, and he still felt good about everything that had happened. He leaned over and kissed John's mouth, a little more roughly than he'd intended.

John jolted awake while his mouth was already responding eagerly. "Sherlock," he said.

"I want to have sex, I think," Sherlock said, moving closer and rolling his hips against John's still half asleep body.

"Sex . . ." John mumbled, trying to make his brain catch up to his body.

"Yeah," Sherlock said, grabbing John's hand and sliding it into his own pajama bottoms. He moved his hips again as he leaned to kiss John's mouth.

John moaned softly, palming at Sherlock's cock. "Me too," he agreed.

Sherlock kept rocking the bed, letting his hands roam over John's body as he continued to kiss his mouth.

John kissed back hungrily, trying to get to skin instead of clothes with his roaming hands.

Sherlock leaned back and reached for the drawer, grabbing the lube and condoms. "Turn over," he said.

John huffed a hard breath and turned onto his belly, putting his cheek on the pillow so he could still attempt to see Sherlock. 

"No, on your side," Sherlock said, slipping out of his pajamas. "So I can spoon you."

John shifted on the bed so his back was to Sherlock. He turned his head to look over his shoulder. "Sherlock," he moaned softly, wanting to touch him, to kiss him, anything. 

Sherlock snuggled close to John. "I'm right here," he whispered and kissed the back of his neck. "Take these off," he said reaching round and pulling on John's boxers.

John pushed his pajamas down and slipped them off. He shivered lightly. "I want you," he murmured. 

"I want you too, John," Sherlock said, sliding his hand down and beginning a slow stroke of John's cock. "I've never felt this way about someone. You must believe that. I want you in every way -- I want you around me all the time -- I want to be able to look up and see you -- I want you everywhere in my life." His voice was husky as he spoke. His hand kept moving, and he began to rock his hips against John.

"I'm sorry it took me so long to do the right thing," John said. "But I'm here and I don't want to lose you."

"You won't, John," Sherlock said, moving to grab the lube. He tipped some into his hand and went back to stroking John's cock. "You won't. Because we belong together." He reached for John's hand, bringing it down, encouraging him to stroke himself.

"Together," John repeated, holding his hand over Sherlock's for a moment before letting go and taking over stroking himself.

Sherlock held his own cock, stroking a few times. Then he moved his hand between John's legs, slicking everywhere. He leaned in and kissed John's neck again as he slowly pushed a finger inside. "Close your eyes and relax your body," Sherlock said. "Listen." He began to slowly pulse his finger, rocking his hip against John as he did. "You make me feel so good in ways I didn't think possible, John."  
  
John closed his eyes and breathed evenly to make his body relax. It became easier as Sherlock spoke. "You make me feel good too," he moaned softly.

"Good," Sherlock said. "I rarely care how other people feel, but I do want to make you feel good. That's important to me." He carefully pushed in two fingers, keeping his movement slowly and gentle.

John gasped softly, closing his eyes and focusing on the feeling of Sherlock's fingers. He stroked himself a bit faster, panting softly. "Sherlock . . ." he moaned, moving with him.

"Do you like it? Do you want me to stop?" Sherlock said. "We can do like we did before if you want." He kept moving his hand and his body as he spoke.

John shook his head. "Don't stop . . . please don't stop," he moaned, moving harder with Sherlock. He was craving more.

Sherlock kissed John's neck again. "I need you to lie on your back now, John," he said. "Keep your hand moving." He slowly slid his fingers from John's body and moved back a little, reaching again for the lube and condoms.

John turned into his back and gazed up at Sherlock, watching him with the condoms. "I love you," he mumbled.

Once he had the condom on, Sherlock leaned over and kissed John softly on the mouth. "I love you, too," he said and smiled. "Tell me if you want to stop and do something else," he added, pushing himself back up. He poured more lube into his hand and covered John and himself again. He separated John's legs a little. "Relax your body but keep moving your hand," he said. He put a hand on either side of John's body, leaning over him a bit as he very slowly pushed himself inside.

John's eyes fluttered closed as he felt himself being stretched. "God..." he sighed, clutching at the bed with his free hand. For the moment his other hand was paused in place. When Sherlock paused as well, John blinked his eyes open to meet Sherlock's, moving his hand again.

Sherlock looked down at John. "God, you're beautiful," he said, dropping his head to give him a soft kiss. He slowly started to roll his hips, just light movements. John's warmth and tightness filled Sherlock with pleasure -- the fact John was doing this with him filled him with love. This was not just good, it was right, and Sherlock wanted to say it aloud, but he knew it was not the time to talk. He kissed him again and kept moving his body. 

Each movement pulled moans and gasps from John, desperately trying to kiss back and keep his hand moving. It was so good his brain was shutting off, lost in the pleasure and heat coiling in his belly.

"Don't stop, John," Sherlock huffed. "It's too good . . . I'm going to come soon." He closed his eyes and let all the sensations fill him.

"Me too," John gasped. "I'm close…" he moaned, stroking faster.

"Let go," Sherlock moaned and then he did, with a few harder thrusts, mumbling John's name as he did.

John gasped and did just that, moaning Sherlock's name loudly as he spilled between them, shuddering with pleasure.

Sherlock lay down on top of John, kissing his mouth softly. He moved slowly from inside him, getting rid of the condom, and curling around him. "Are you okay?" he whispered, laying his hand on John's chest. 

John nodded as he was panting, turning his head to look at Sherlock. "I am," he said.

"I hope . . . I hope you liked it, like that . . . with me," Sherlock said. He wasn't quite sure what he was wanted to say. No, he was sure what he wanted to say. He wanted to say that what had just happened meant more to him than he could have possibly imagined, more than any experience he'd ever had with another person. But he wasn't sure if that was the right thing to say.

"I did," John murmured. He turned and kissed Sherlock softly before curling again him. "Sherlock, it felt . . ." He took a deep breath and let it out against Sherlock's chest. "It felt right." 

Sherlock smiled widely, reaching up and petting John's cheek. "Because it was, John," he said. "It's all right."


End file.
